


Running with the Wolves

by DemonSaya



Series: Running with the Wolves [1]
Category: Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: Adventure, Celtic Mythology & Folklore, F/M, Fantasy, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:28:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 46,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24949198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemonSaya/pseuds/DemonSaya
Summary: Visiting a relative, Sarah makes the mistake of straying somewhere she shouldn't. Getting there was easy, getting home will be the challenge.
Relationships: Jareth & Sarah Williams, Jareth/Sarah Williams
Series: Running with the Wolves [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1875229
Comments: 79
Kudos: 242





	1. Chapter 1

Sarah Williams stared out at the misty, rolling hills outside the small cabin. She never got tired of the view from her maternal grandmother’s home in Ireland, where she was right then. Just to look out the window was like to look across an ancient and magical place.

The cabin itself was quaint, a single story made of rough stones pulled from the earth generations ago. There was a small loft over the living spaces, which her grandmother had made into a reading nook when she was a child. There were a few “modern updates”, a wind catcher, to help power the place, a pump in the well, so there was running water. Modern appliances, because her grandmother had been too old to worry about washing dishes or laundry for about 20 years - and those were her grandmother’s words, not her own.

The woman, herself, looked small, frail, in ways she hadn’t 20 years ago, when Sarah had last been able to visit. But grandmammy Rhiannon still had sharp eyes, sharp ears and a sharper tongue. 

The doctor that visited every day said her grandmother was ‘ailing’. The reality was that the almost 100 year old woman was dying, and both she and Rhiannon knew it.

It was, after all, why she was there. The old woman had first tried to call her children home. When none of them responded, she called to her grandchildren. When she’d gotten the call, her father had paid for her tickets, updated her passport, and got her on the next available plane.

Sarah was the only one to answer.

The others were too busy with their own lives, couldn’t afford the trip, or a million other reasons. Even her own mother couldn’t - she’d been in an accident only a month before, and was still hospitalized. Sarah wasn’t making excuses for them. She’d been in a position where she could drop what she was doing, where she had someone who could afford to buy the tickets for her. If she’d been on her own, hadn’t had her father to lean on, she wouldn’t have been able to come here, either.

It wasn’t anything dramatic like cancer or organ failure. It was just old age catching up.

It was hard, seeing the once vital and energetic woman fading away. When she’d been a child, her grandmother would take her on long, rambling walks over the countryside. The summer visits she’d made with her mother before her father and mother divorced were glorious.

She was given free reign to roam the Irish countryside as she wished, as long as she didn’t cross that stream that wound through the property. There were summers of games, of laughter, of joy and fun.

This time, she didn’t get to wander as she had as a child. She wouldn’t leave her grandmother alone often. She’d set a limit to herself, she wouldn’t leave the older woman’s side for more than fifteen minutes. She got their groceries delivered, doctors and nurses came almost daily to check on her, to make sure that she was properly caring for her grandmother.

Still, she longed for that damp grass under her feet, that mist around her. It made her feel like she was in another world. A world she hadn’t gotten a chance to see since she was a teenager. Her grandmother knew that. It was probably why the stubborn old woman was looking so cross.

“Child,” Rhiannon said, her voice short. “Whenever I end up going, it will be exactly when I’m intended to go, whether you’re here or not.” She adjusted the knitted lace shawl that rested around her shoulders. “Go. Be with the land. Death hasn’t gotten so close that you need to sit around waiting for him.”

Sarah blinked, looking at her grandmother. “Grandmammy Rhi?”

The old woman gave her a soft smile, one filled with understanding. “You love the old country, Sarah. That’s always been true. I suspected, out of all my children and grandchildren, you’d be the one to return. Take some time out there. I know you’ve missed it.”

Guilt, and some shame, filled Sarah. She got to her feet, taking her grandmother’s hands, giving her a kiss on her wrinkled cheek. “You always did see through me.”

“Just remember to stay on this side of the river, child.”

She smiled, and nodded her head. “I always have. I’ll be back, soon.”

She got up to leave, making sure that her grandmother had a snack, a drink, and a book before she headed to the door. She took a light jacket, pulled the hood up over her head as she headed outside. The air was cool from the mist, her pant hem immediately growing damp from the drops of water that clung to the grass.

The front of the house had a modest garden walled with gorse hedge. An arch was created by the weaving of the branches of two ash trees that grew between the two hedges. Her grandmother told her it had taken some time bending young branches each year into a suitable arch. The stones that led to her cabin from that archway were black tourmaline, and shone even when it was dry and dusty outside. On the sides of the tourmaline path were beds of red verbena and daisies that her grandmother tended to this day. There was a rowan tree growing at one of the corners, with a small water feature beneath it. The pond was lined with beautiful blue stones. Lapis lazuli, her grandmother had told her. Around the outside edge was a bed of clovers, three and four leaf, that scented the air lightly.

Her grandmother had explained to her, years ago, that the house and the land it sat on was old, had been in the family for generations, and only passed to the women. It had been built to protect their family from the dangers of this world and the world beyond the veil. Because of how old the place was, the protections had always been strong.

Beyond those protections, there were typical garden flowers. Morning glories and moonflowers, roses and peonies. Hyacinths and lavender. Above the door to the house was a symbol that she’d helped her grandmother weave as a child. A “Brigid’s Cross”, four pointed and woven from reeds. She knew on the other side of the door was a hag stone, something that prevented faeries from passing beneath.

She had a sneaking suspicion that the women on that side of her family were hiding something from the men and the children. There was no other reason for that much protection on a cabin out in the middle of nowhere. Even if the house was almost three hundred years old. Still, as Sarah left, she respected the rules of the house. She hung the key to the house on an iron peg that stuck out of the arch way, letting the hag stone that served as a key ring dangle down.

She walked from the garden, looking out over the moore, at the rolling hills that led down to the riverside. She took the ash branch that stood against the hedge, using it as a walking stick and to test her footing.

Rhiannon was right. She’d loved being here since she was a child. The only place that could even come close back home was the park near her father’s home. The air here seemed to tremble with promise, and she always felt that if she looked out the corner of her eyes, she’d see faeries or some ancient creature standing and looking at her.

She smiled a bit at the silly childishness of the thought.

Dreams of a more innocent time for her, she supposed.

Memories from when she’d faced against a king and won.

She stooped, picking up a stone she found on the ground, with a little hole worn through from erosion and she smiled, slipping the stone into her pocket. It was about the right size as a worry stone, she decided, and kept her hand around it, thumb brushing the hollow in the middle of it, even as she continued her walk.

It felt like no time at all, before she was standing on the bank of that stream, looking across. The other side was wild and untamed, trees springing up half way down the hill. She’d always been curious about what was on the other side, but she always took her grandmother’s warnings to heart. Even as an adult.

Particularly since today it felt like the other side was just a little too wild to be a place intended for humans to tread. She took the small hag stone she’d found from her pocket, looking across into that wild wood, her fingers stroking the smooth, worn surface of it.

She wasn’t certain how long she’d been staring, but she snapped out of it when there was a splash in the stream near enough to her that her pants got wet. She stepped back, taking a sharp breath, and realized she’d stepped into the stream.

She shook herself, turning and hurrying back to her grandmother’s cabin. The strange feeling that she was being watched didn’t ease until after she passed under the ashwood archway leading into her grandmother’s garden. She paused there, looking back, and for a moment, she got that feeling of something in the corner of her eyes. Like something was right there.

She had a strange feeling, almost like a memory from when she was standing down by the water. Like a hand on her elbow, stopping her as she stepped into the water.

Taking a shaking breath, she set the ash stick inside the garden, grabbing the key from over the archway and heading into the house with haste that had more to do with fear than with worry.

When she pushed the door closed behind herself, her grandmother was standing there, her expression tense and serious. When she spoke, Sarah’s blood ran cold.

“It’s getting closer, now.” The old woman’s sharp green eyes focused on her. “I can’t hide forever, I suppose.”


	2. Chapter 2

Grandmammy Rhannon had spent a lot of her last days sitting in her rocking chair. She’d been staring out the window, her sharp green eyes hard with an intensity Sarah didn’t understand. It was as if she was waiting for something. 

The only visitor to the house after that was her solicitor, a short, round, bald man who had, at first meeting, expressed what he thought of her. His eyes were bright blue behind round little glasses that sat on his nose. He didn’t like her. He’d told her that, outright. Too many young people take advantage of their elderly relations. She had bristled at the implication that she was just there bleeding her grandmother dry.

But for her grandmother’s sake, she hadn’t picked a fight with the man.

He had sat with Rhiannon, going over the woman’s will and bequests, and Sarah sat in the garden, ripping up weeds and trying to not worry about the look her grandmother had worn when she’d returned from her walk that day.

The sky had been bright and clear, the weather pleasant, since that day, as if mocking her worries.

She also still had the uncanny feel of being watched. It was closer now, as if whatever watched, whatever waited was on the other side of the hedge. Too close to her, too close to her grandmother.

That scared her, too.

When the solicitor left, he paused and looked at her for a long moment, a stern look on his face. As if he didn’t approve of something about her. Maybe it was because she was on her hands and knees, covered in dirt, filling a wheelbarrow with weeds from the bed of flowers by the front door. Regardless, he walked briskly along the path, and didn’t seem to become comfortable until he’d passed under the archway.

She stood, brushing her hands off on her jeans and headed into the cabin. “Grandmammy Rhi?”

The woman looked towards her and smiled. She stood, and Sarah winced at the sound of her joints creaking. “He’s insufferable, isn’t he. Come, child.” She extended her hand towards her, amused.

Sarah took her hand, giving her a smile, and helping the old woman to her bed. “He doesn’t like me.”

“He doesn’t like anyone, most of the time. He and I used to argue like crazy. Now, he worries about over taxing me.” She gave a rough chuckle, letting Sarah help her sit on the edge of her bed. She took her cane, tapping two floorboards. “Pry those up for me, Sarah. I have a few things to discuss with you.”

Sarah blinked, crouching and she found a screwdriver, using it to pull up the boards her grandmother had indicated. Inside was an old box, made of wood, with a celtic cross etched into the top. She frowned, pulling the box out and looking at the old woman. “What is this?”

Rhiannon reached for the box, and Sarah placed it carefully into her hands, closing the floorboards after. When her grandmother spoke, she was about half-way to her feet, again.

“I’m leaving everything to you, child.”

Sarah started, looking towards her. The shock almost had her knees go out. She managed to fall into the chair by her grandmother’s bed. “What?”

The woman looked at her, a shrewd expression softened by a smile. “You’ve too much of the old country in you. More than your mother did. She’d have crossed the river, and never seen the difference from the other side. Sometimes, it skips a generation, I suppose.”

Sarah watched as weathered, wrinkled hands lifted the lid off the box, then she pulled out a bundle of white silk. Inside that bundle was a small scroll in a simple leather casing, and a long chain with a celtic cross pendant on the end. The words, however, caught her attention. “What’s on the other side of the river?”

Those clear green eyes looked at her, something almost amused in them. “Something great and terrible. But, as long as I’m alive, it can’t see you.”

But that wouldn’t be for much longer, and she knew that was what her grandmother was telling her.

Rhiannon took a deep breath, looking at the scroll and the necklace. There was something in her eyes that Sarah couldn’t quite name, something fierce and wonderful. Excited. When she exhaled, she spoke, again.

“The house, the garden, they’re yours to do with as you wish. Sell it and split the money up with your cousins, if you wish, or keep it to yourself, I don’t care. This, however, is different. This is your bequest, and your burden.”

Sarah scooted closer to the edge of the bed. The old woman lifted something in her hand, and the weighted end of it fell from her fist. A pendant, the same celtic cross as on the box. She looked at her aunt confused. 

“When the time comes, you’ll understand, child. Once I’m gone, I can’t protect you from what’s on the other side of the river. The protections of this house hid me, and I sheltered you as best I could with the rules I laid down. Once I’m gone, those rules will not protect you.”

Sarah let Rhiannon drape the heavy pendant around her neck. “I don’t understand.”

“You will, child. You’re fae touched, too. At some point in your life, you made a wish, saw something, did something you shouldn’t have. Whatever happened then marked your life forever.” 

Sarah’s throat went dry, and she gave a tremble. She saw a knowing smile on Rhiannon’s face. Fear and a yearning she didn’t know she had struck her hard.

Rhiannon scooped her long dark hair from the chain of the necklace, and then cupped her face between those old hands. “Your mother doesn’t believe in destiny, child. But I do, because I’ve seen it’s machinations at work before. This isn’t idle chatter. Whatever happens after I go, be yourself, and remember everything I’ve taught you. If you can do that, you’ll be fine.”

Sarah lifted her hands, holding the others to her face as she turned her face against the older woman’s palm. “Alright, I won’t forget.”

The woman pulled her close, kissing her on the forehead. “Go on, now, child. I’m going to rest for a bit. The man may have a brilliant legal mind, but he’s insufferable beyond that.”

The mischievous sparkle in her grandmother’s eyes did wonders to ease Sarah’s worries. She smiled, getting to her feet and gave her grandmother a kiss on the cheek. “Alright.”

Her grandmother closed up the box and handed it to her, smiling. “Don’t open the scroll, yet.”

Serious, for a moment, Sarah took the box, hugging it to her chest. This time, there was less laughter in her voice when she spoke. “Alright.”

She took the box up to the loft she was staying in, tucked it in her travel pack, pausing to play with the pendant that hung around her neck.

Even on all sides, perfectly symmetrical. Considering the age it appeared to be, and how worn the pendant was, that surprised her. Shaking her head, she put the pendant under her shirt, and went back downstairs, starting to make a nice, crusty bread to go with the soup that was left from the day before. She took stock of other things she had on hand.

Some apples and trail mix. Beef jerky and mixed nuts. The bread. Sunflower seeds. She started making a grocery list and paused, sitting at the bar, waiting for the bread to rise. Her hands were still trembling a bit, after the conversation with her grandmother.

She’d never told anyone about her trip through the Labyrinth when she was fifteen. First, because she’d thought no one would ever believe her. But also because for a long time, she wasn’t certain if it was a memory or a dream.

Her grandmother’s words had been certain. Even without knowing what had happened, her grandmother knew she’d been a guest of the fair folk. She took a moment to wonder, again, what sort of secrets the women in her family kept.

It didn’t matter. Yet.

So she went ahead and made the list of things her grandmother would need for the following week, baked the bread, packed it up in a large plastic bag so it would keep longer.

When supper was finished, she loaded a tray for her grandmother, bringing it into the bedroom downstairs. She knocked, then pushed open the door and found Rhiannon still dozing. She smiled, setting the tray on the table by the bed. “Grandmammy Rhi? Dinner’s ready. Try to eat something.”

Her grandmother stirred in her sleep, and smiled. That smile made her look years younger and it made Sarah smile in return. She took a moment to fuss the blankets over the woman, and smiled when her grandmother made a sound of irritation. Then, she left the room, closing the door behind her.

She sat at the small table in the kitchen to eat her own meal, then washed up the dishes. She checked in on her grandmother one more time before she climbed back up to her loft, pulling her sleeping bag around her and curling up with a book.

The next thing she knew, she was standing on the windswept moor by that stream she was to never cross. She didn’t remember walking down, and it was dark outside, still. She was careful to not leave the house at night, not wanting her grandmother to need her and to not be available.

She frowned, looking along the bank of the river to her right and left. She was alone on this side of the bank. But further down, on the opposite side, Sarah saw her grandmother standing there.

“Grandmammy Rhi?”

Her voice seemed to fall dull in the night air. As if it wouldn’t reach across the river at all.

Her grandmother stood there with her cane, looking towards the forest with a fierce look in her green eyes. Joy and desire in those eyes, so powerful that it took Sarah’s breath away.

A man on horseback left the forest, riding towards her grandmother. Sarah couldn’t get a clear look at the man, it was too far. But the horse’s hooves seemed to leave a trail of light in their wake. When he stopped, he extended a hand to her grandmother.

_It’s time, Rhiannon._

She knew the man hadn’t spoken, but she heard the voice ring clear as a bell over the moors. 

Sarah watched her grandmother turn towards her as she took the man’s hand. It seemed to her that her grandmother seemed to get younger before her eyes. That hunched back grew straight and proud. Silver hair changed to ginger-gold. Wrinkles softened.

Where an old woman had stood was a woman in her prime. The woman smiled at her, nodded at her, smiling as though pleased, and mounted the horse behind the man.

The man seemed to look at her, too. Something about his smile was unsettling, just on the edge of inhuman. She got the impression of clear blue eyes that just seemed on the edge of too large. Then, he turned the horse, and he and her grandmother disappeared back into the forest.

Sarah jolted awake, gasping, shaking and covered with sweat. What the fuck was that, she wondered, throwing off the sleeping bag and heading to the ground level. She was shaking so hard, it took some effort to get there safe.

She took the oil lamp on the table there and went to check on her grandmother.

Something in the house felt wrong. It felt too dark even with the lantern. As she entered her grandmother’s dim room, she reached for the lamp, turning it on. Then she reached for Rhiannon’s hand, hoping to wake her up.

Her hands were cold as ice.

She slid her fingers until she found the old woman’s wrist, and couldn’t find a pulse.

A wail left her, and she shook her head, trying to deny it. She pushed the blankets away, listening for a heartbeat against her chest, but there was just stillness, silence. She fell back on her backside, covering her mouth with both hands, tears falling down her eyes.

She wasn’t certain how long she sat there like that, crying for her grandmother. It took her some time to calm down enough to think. She needed to call the doctor, she thought. And her mother. And the solicitor? She didn’t know what she was doing, what the hell was she supposed to do? 

She struggled to her feet, stumbling out of the room, tears on her cheeks. 

Taking the phone from the cradle in the living room, she called her mother.

“Sarah, dear? Is everything okay?”

“Momma, Grandmammy is gone.” Her breath hitched. “She’s gone and I don’t know what to do. What do I do?”

The line was silent for a time, and Sarah wondered if the connection was bad. Then, her mother’s voice spoke.

“Just remember the rules, Sarah. Don’t cross the river.”

The words weren’t what Sarah expected. There was a clinical coldness to them that startled her. She pulled the phone away from her ear, frowning. “Mom?”

“Stay on your side of the river.”

Something about that voice was wrong, didn’t sound like her mother’s. Close enough to fool the unsuspecting. But after her talk with her grandmother earlier, could she call herself that? A shiver worked up her spine. “Who are you?”

The voice, her mother’s voice without her inflection, spoke again. “Sarah, don’t cross the river.”

She hung up the phone, half-throwing it at the cradle. She covered her mouth, holding in a scream, staring at the phone, trying to not panic.

It took her a moment to contain the intense emotions running through her. She was scared, grieving, and angry. Fairie bastards playing games with her on the night of her grandmother’s death. Her chest heaved, and she rushed up the ladder again, grabbing the box that her grandmother had given her that afternoon. She ripped the lid off the box, pulling out the scroll.

No, not parchment inside. Leather. Oiled and well maintained.

Confused, she unrolled it, fingers running over it. It was hard to see in the dark, so she rolled it back up, deciding to figure out what was going on in the morning. She stuffed that scrap of scroll into her pocket, and scrounged through her clothing, putting together two outfits and extra underwear in a waterproof bag. She put that in the bottom of a travel backpack. She grabbed the loaf of bread she’d baked with her grandmother the day before, and packed it in another waterproof bag.

She wasn’t certain what she was doing. But she had to do something. Her grandmother left these to her for a reason. She needed to figure out what the hell that reason was.

She was packing some other dry goods that would keep her going for where this journey would take her when there was a loud, hard knock at the front door. She jumped, startled. There was another hard knock.

Something about it made her shove the food into her bag, and she took a moment to consider it, hoping she’d have enough. Shaking herself, she shouldered the bag and went to the front door, pulling it open and looking out. 

Her grandmother’s doctor stood there, holding his hat against his chest.

“I am very sorry for your loss, miss Williams. Could you please show me to your grandmother?”

“Uh. Yeah.” She headed into the house, towards her grandmother’s room.

In the doorway, her grandmother kept a bowl of rice. She should bring some with her, too, she thought for a moment.

When she turned towards the doctor. He hadn’t come inside, something unsettling in his expression. “Is something wrong?”

“You didn’t invite me inside properly.” He sounded angry, petulant. And similar to the voice of her mother on the phone, not right.

A shiver went up her spine. Had she called the doctor after she spoke to her mother? She didn’t remember making that call. A panicked glance towards the phone saw that it was laying askew as it had been when she’d initially thrown it. Sarah reached a cautious hand into the bowl of rice, taking a handful of it, and threw it at the doctor in the doorway. He - or it - gave a startled cry and dropped to its knees, beginning to count the grains of rice.

It no longer looked like the doctor. 

She almost puked in fear. She poured the rest of the rice into the bag with the bread and shouldered her bag, again. On the bedside table was a bit of cold iron. She pocketed that, as well. Where was the damn key? She found that tucked under her grandmother’s mattress, hagstone attached.

As if her grandmother had known she’d be close when she needed it.

Sarah ran to the window, wrenching it open, climbing out of it. 

Don’t think, she told herself. This is stupid, and you know it, but don’t think.

Outside, there were other things lurking in the dark. But faerie didn’t work by mortal rules, and they could outlast her. There was more than the creature in the doorway outside the house. 

She couldn’t afford to think. She had to act. She ran for the arching ash trees, grabbing the long ash wand that sat there where she’d left it before. Then, she ran away from her grandmother’s cabin. No, her cabin.

She stumbled in the dark, over unfamiliar hills and hammocks in the land. She should take her time, be careful that she didn’t fall into a bog or something. 

But the other figures outside her grandmother’s home scared the hell out of her. Riders, like the one in her dream. Unlike her dream, these riders had no heads, and their horses paced in a restless manner, as if they were waiting for something. She just hoped that their focus was still tight enough on her grandmother and the cabin that she’d managed to slip past them.

She’d been running for what felt like hours, but in reality was minutes, when she heard the pounding of hooves on the ground. She misstepped, rolled down the hill, and landed hard into water that went up to her elbows. She stayed there, listening for the sound of horses coming closer. She felt what was like a gust of wind on her neck, and she bit back a shriek of fear. She slid one hand forward, keeping it in contact with the stones beneath her palms. If she felt the level drop, she could stay safe. Like that, she inched her way over, until she felt grass beneath her hands once again, as well as damp moss and soil.

She crawled from the water and flopped onto her back, shivering and soaked, but very glad that she’d packed her dry goods in waterproof bags. Sitting, she scooted further back, gripping the length of ash in her hand tight as she could. But, now there was no sound at all.

All Sarah could hear in the darkness was the whisper of wind over the moors.


	3. Chapter 3

Sarah stayed in that hummock of land until the horizon turned gray with daylight. She hadn't quite reached the stream, yet. She supposed it was luck or a fluke that had found her there and safe the following morning, but now that it was daylight, she took the opportunity to call herself a damn idiot. She could have fallen into a bog running wild like she had, the night before.

Still, daylight brought relief. Whatever had chased her the night before was gone, now. The moors were peaceful, just the soft sound of the wind whispering through the hills, the stream rambling in it’s banks, nearby.

She owed her grandmother the decency of ensuring her wishes for her remains were respected.So, she shouldered her bag, again, hiking to the village. She stopped at the doctor's office, telling him that her grandmother had died the night before. This man, unlike the one from the night before, looked genuinely grieved. She made arrangements to have the body removed that day, and informed him that her grandmother had requested cremation.

He made her a cup of tea, saying she was looking a bit peaky, and when she had finished it, sent her on her way.

It was with great trepidation, Sarah returned to the cabin. Whatever had been there the night before was gone, now. in the daylight, without the shadows and fear, she wondered if she hadn't gone a little crazy the night before.

The reminders of the nightmares were still there. The front door was still standing open. The Brigid's Cross above had been knocked down in the chaos. She picked it up, brushing it off and replacing it on it’s peg above the door before she moved inside, looking around the entry.

Rice still littered the floor, and the phone still sat askew in the cradle. She’d apparently knocked a lamp down when she’d grabbed her bag. It still looked as chaotic as when she'd initially run.

She got the broom and dust pan, and swept up the rice as well as the broken fragments of ceramic from the lamp. In her grandmother’s room, the window still stood open, so she closed it, trying very hard to not weep at the still body laying on the bed. However, when she turned towards the bed, she saw the tray, still laden with food, untouched and untasted. She picked up the tray and sighed softly, her eyes resting on her grandmother’s face before she left.

Her grandmother looked peaceful, like she’d just laid down for a nap. But she remembered her dream that had started everything the night before and how her grandmother had looked in it. Tall and proud, ginger hair flowing over her shoulders. That smile like she was pleased with her.

Sarah shook herself, carrying the tray into the kitchen and disposing of the food. She washed the dishes and set them to dry. While she waited for the doctor to come and take her grandmother away her fingers toyed with the celtic cross pendant. She refused to let her mind wander. Too easy to lose track of time if she did that.

So, instead, she took inventory of her pack.

That made her more annoyed with herself. Granted, she had been in shock, last night, but she knew how to pack for a trip, and this was not it. With a frustrated sigh, she freed the bread from its bag, keeping the rice there, and wrapping the loaf in another bag. Then she grabbed a knife, careful to wrap it so she wouldn't accidentally stab herself with it.

She packed the oil lamp, and some extra wick and fuel. She rolled her sleeping bag, another important item that she'd forgotten the evening before in her panic induced flight.

The bagged dry goods she’d found the day before she packed carefully as well, to make sure she wouldn't end up eating something she shouldn't. 

She remembered that damn peach too well, even now.

Once everything was packed, she opened the scroll, again, peering at the surface. And she started.

A map, crudely burnt into the leather, marking the cabin, the river, and what lay beyond. And a small Celtic cross, the same design as on the box, the same as on her pendant. Like a treasure map.

She shivered, and jumped when the phone rang next to her.

Cautiously, she answered it. "This is Sarah William's, can I help you-"

"Sarah, is everything okay? We got disconnected, last night. I tried to call after, but the line was bad."

Her mother. The same inflection, the same voice. After the strange phone call the night before, the mundane manner of this one made her relax. She sighed, sitting in a chair. "Momma, grandmammy died last night."

The reality of that was digging into her heart painfully.

"Oh," soft, faint, a tremble behind the word. "Are you okay? Should I come there?"

"No, mom." She said, shaking herself. "I can take care of things, here."

A long, quiet pause. "You shouldn't have to do this, alone."

"You shouldn't have to, either."

Finally, there was a sigh. "What are your plans, then?"

"I'll deal with things, here, beyond that I'll work it out. I'll call you when I get a chance." There was a knock on the door, not hard as the night before. "I gotta go, momma. I'll call you if I need help."

"Alright, sweetheart." The line disconnected, and Sarah placed the phone carefully in the cradle and went to answer the door.

Dealing with the doctor was much less terrifying, today, with sunlight flooding the cabin. It helped that the man walked in like he owned the place, heading straight to her grandmother’s room. The two assistants who came with him brought a stretcher to help remove her grandmother’s body. She stayed out of the room, nursing her sadness, while they worked.

When they left, she signed off on cremation services with the doctor, and then went back to packing, double and triple checking her inventory.

After last night’s adventure, she had a nagging suspicion she knew what was on the other side of the stream. Her grandmother’s words had pushed that thought to the front, and now she had no doubt. It terrified her, but right then, she understood why her grandmother had left this to her, and not her mother, aunts, uncles or cousins.

She understood what her grandmother’s words had meant.

She left the house before sunset, locked the front door and hung the key on the peg as her grandmother had always taught her to.

A hagstone, meant to hide whatever was beneath from the fair folk. The plants in the garden, meant to repel them. She’d known that when she tended them, but lots of the old country hung on to old ways like this.

As she turned away from the cabin, a whisper on the wind seemed to brush her ear, caught her attention, tugged at her memories.

_Turn back, Sarah. Turn back before it’s too late._

“I can’t…” She answered the wind, staring out at the darkening moors.

She took a shaking breath, shifting her grip on the ash walking stick - wand, her brain offered - and took her first step off the path, into the wild untamed moors that surrounded the cabin. She didn’t look back as she walked away from what was now her cabin. It wasn’t goodbye, after all. She wouldn’t let it be.

She’d be home soon enough.

She wouldn’t allow herself to think otherwise.

Sarah moved slower, today, than she had during her panicked flight the night before. Her feet carried her forward, as they had so long ago, even knowing that where she was going might not follow the rules of the Labyrinth. She used the ash wand to check the land, to make sure she was stepping on steady ground. That strip of blue that cut the land drew her like a flame, until she finally stopped, the stream stretching out before her, it’s ends disappearing behind bends.

This was where she’d stood in her dream, the evening before. The realization of that made her hands tremble and she took a steadying breath. This wasn’t a dream, she reminded herself. She was making a choice to break a rule she’d obeyed her whole life. 

She wasn’t certain how long she stood there, on the bank of the stream, fighting internally with herself whether or not to take that step. Then, a sound caught her attention. Restless hooves thundering on the ground towards her, coming ever closer. She stood at the bank on this side of the river, trying to tell herself to take a step, but she wasn’t ready to cross, yet. That sound just kept coming closer, louder and louder, until it was so loud, she swore if she turned, she’d see them right behind her.

But she didn’t turn back, refused to look.

Instead, closing her eyes, she sprung off the bank of the stream, feet soaked as soon as she hit the water. She uses the ash branch to make sure she doesn’t step in a hole, shuffling blind across that strip of water. It wasn’t until her feet came up on dry land, again, that she opened her eyes. Her breath left her in a whoosh, and she turned back, finally, to look behind her.

What was a narrow stream was anything but on this side. This was a proper river, rushing waters so fast she knew crossing it couldn’t be easy, even if she could swim the distance. Her breath shuddered out of her, hand coming up to grip the pendant through her shirt. The other bank wasn’t even visible. Fog had swallowed it, shrouded it.

She looked around, wild-eyed for something familiar, something safe. Away from the river was the wood that she’d seen her grandmother ride into. She trembled, realizing she wouldn’t be able to reach it before night fell. So she reached back, grabbing the small oil lantern and lit the wick. She then headed along the river in the direction where she’d seen her grandmother, her feet carrying her sure and steady.

She couldn’t cross that river, yet. But there had to be some way back across. Was it worth trying, right then? Rivers could be deceptive, the surface could be calm and placid, but underneath could be speeds that could drag a person under and away before they realized they were in danger. Right now, in the darkening night, she could lose a fight with the water. So she wrote that off, at least for now.

When darkness fell in full, howls went up in the night, getting ever louder as she walked. There was something wild and primal in that noise, something inhuman and frightening. It didn’t sound like dogs, nor wolves, but something that was trying to use that sound for reasons she couldn’t fathom.

Her panic was getting worse, now, in the too dark night. So she found a small burrow in the land by the river and settled in, setting the lantern next to her. She kept her back against the hill, kept her hand on the lantern and just listened to those nightmare inducing sounds echoing through the dark. The sounds kept her awake, alert, when even a cup of coffee wouldn’t have sustained her. Fear was good enough for that, she figured, and she understood what her grandmother had meant by ‘burden’.

She knew, too well, that it would be another sleepless night. That didn’t bode well for this adventure.

She shuddered, realizing she was being a proper idiot about this. She should have told someone where she was going, what she was going to do. She should have brought someone else.

But who? The doctor? Her grandmother’s lawyer?

A sigh escaped her, and she reached into the shirt, pulling out that little pendant, looking at it in the dim light. Her thoughts turned inward, even as she sat there.

She hoped that she was strong enough for all of this. Because right then, she certainly didn’t feel strong enough. She felt afraid, and like she didn’t know what she was doing. She worried that she’d crossed that line unprepared for everything and anything that would be here.

She sat there second guessing herself until the sky started to brighten in the early hours of the morning. As the sky lightened, the sounds died down, as well.

The dawn was gray and overcast, the fog thick and unforgiving. The air was damp with mist, making her shirt cling to her skin. The dampness chilled her, too, but she knew that would ease when she got up and started moving. So she put out the lantern as soon as she had enough light to see without it and got to her feet. 

She walked towards the river, crouching down and cupping her hand in the water, not sure the water was safe to drink or not, but she couldn’t remember any stories of people being taken over a drink of water. Water belonged to the earth. 

So, being cautious and keeping her hand threaded through the grass beside her, she took just enough to soothe her parched throat and then splashed some on her face. Sitting there, she looked across to the other bank, once again, finding it still shrouded in fog. 

No waiting that out, then. She wondered, for a moment, if the fog was real, or if it just was there to ensure that the person crossing the water couldn’t reach the other side.

She was still trying to work out what to do when a webbed hand broke the surface of the water and grabbed her hair, pulling her upper body forward and into the water.

She let out a startled cry before she hit the surface, but managed to keep from inhaling a lung full of river water. She kept her hand curled in the grass, willing it to hold on, to not pull out by the roots.

_No!_

Another hand reached around her other arm, trying to further pull her into the water. She struggled as well as she could, considering that these things were in their element and she was not in hers. She was certain she couldn’t outlast these things, and just as certain that they were trying to drown her.

A beautiful face swept in front of hers, and she saw iridescent eyes looking up at her. Too large for that petite face, almost like a doll, she thought, her mind feeling light, fear easing. Something in her knew this thing was spellbinding her, but she couldn’t close her eyes or look away. 

Then, that gentle feeling of calm evaporated when teeth bared, and eyes looking at something past her, with venom. A warm hand curved around her elbow, the one that wasn’t below the water, and another slipped over her eyes. She shivered, feeling someone at her back, curled over her from behind, and something seemed to touch her mind. 

Calm, safe, protected. Not words, but feelings, trying to tell her that she could trust whoever had her. 

Light, blinding and bright filtered between the fingers over her eyes, and the hands of the creatures dragging her under fell away from her. 

Her face cleared the surface of the water, but she didn’t see whatever became of what tried to drag her under. That hand still covered her eyes, shielding her from it. She sobbed, gasping for breath, staring at the glove covering her eyes, still clinging to that handful of grass that she’d held.

She felt the person behind her move, the hand that had her elbow shifting to her waist, and she thought she felt the whisper of breath against her cheek. Before she could turn to look at whoever had saved her, she was shoved to the ground, the hand which had been so gentle over her eyes hard against her mouth. 

The body was definitely a man’s, the firmness of a chest pressing her back down against the grass. Fear filled her, and she struggled against whoever held her pinned. When she struggled, the hand at her stomach moved, catching her wrists and holding them. Then, the person who held her spoke.

“Be quiet, or they’ll hear you.” 

She went very still, her breath catching in her lungs.

That voice was memories and dreams and nightmares all rolled into one, but she wasn’t being allowed to roll over and confirm her suspicions. Instead, the body just pinned her against the grass, hand tight against her lips. Then, her brain caught up with the words.

Slowly, she lifted her eyes, and saw movement in the grass. It was a moment before she got a clear view of the nightmares before them.

The large creatures reminded her of dogs sniffing around the area she’d spent the night, lifting their head, letting out that howl that had haunted her the night before. As she watched, they moved closer to them. She shuddered, realizing that it was more from fear than from cold. She lay silent, trying to keep her wits, feeling tears piercing her eyes. Everything in her was screaming that she needed to run.

What in the fuck…?

The body against hers shifted, and she heard what sounded like a scream in the distance. The creatures lifted their heads towards the sound, and took off after it. There was another tense moment and then the person who had saved her twice now, shifted and sat up.

She wasn’t sure she wanted to move. She wasn’t sure she wanted to look, to have her fears and even prayers answered this way. Still, when the weight over her shifted, she got onto her hands and knees, trying to get control of herself. 

Once her fear had eased back to a dull sensation, she eased into a seating position away from the edge of the water and whatever nightmares were within. It still took her a long moment before she turned her gaze to Jareth, the Goblin King, who was looking at her with nothing less than fury and annoyance.


	4. Chapter 4

Sarah could tell she was annoyed from the tilt of his head. His eyes pinned her, brow over them furrowed with irritation. There was a bit of a twitch to the corner of his upper lip, like he was trying to not snarl and it was taking a monumental level of effort.

He was, she noticed, just as beautiful as the first time she saw him, with starlight hair over his arched brows, and though it was still wild, it wasn’t as fluffy as she’d remembered. Careless strands fell in his eyes and around his shoulders.

She hesitated to say anything, because she was almost certain that nothing that would come out of her mouth was going to sound intelligent. It’d be the damn tunnels all over again.

“Uh, hi,” was all she managed to get out of her mouth.

The enigmatic, mercurial creature before her narrowed his eyes at her, wrapped a hand around her arm and hauled her to her feet.

“We need to move. Now.” His voice held all the coldness she expected, but the temper in his eyes was anything but cold. The tone didn’t leave any room for discussion or debate. Before she could open her mouth to object, he set off at a pace that she almost had to run to keep up with. He didn’t look back at her as he moved, but she could hear him muttering under his breath some things that sounded quite unfavorable.

“Idiot human females and their damned idiot ideas…”

Her lips pulled into a frown. In part because he was making it difficult to walk, holding her arm in his vice like grip. After a few minutes of this, Sarah decided enough was enough.

She planted her feet to brace herself, and ripped her arm from his grip. She managed to bite back a cry of pain, and knew as soon as she’d done it that it was going to leave a nasty bruise. His grip wasn’t human at all, and she’d needed a lot of force to break free of it.

“What the _fuck_ is going on, Jareth?”

He whipped towards her, but her use of his name stopped him and he exhaled in a hiss. He was chest to chest with her and she realized with a twinge of pleasure she was able to look him in the eye without having to look up. Still, she glared at him, trying to not notice that one of his pupils was blown, but that both eyes were blue. She pushed that thought away for another time.

His gaze was furious, and she watched his jaw flex, as if he was going to say something. When he spoke, she found herself impressed that he could with his jaw clenched like that. “That is what I would like to know, precious fool. I thought I was plenty clear the other evening that you should remain on _that_ side of that thrice damned river.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, narrowing her eyes at him. “Yes, well, perhaps you should have told whatever nightmares showed up on my doorstep, then. Because they sure as hell didn’t seem to have a problem crossing it.”

She watched his lip twitch with his temper, watched his eyes close. Then, he steadied himself, took a calming breath and when he looked at her again, his temper was buried. “Look around you. This area is too open, and it’s not safe to talk here. Other things besides me heard you scream when the merrow tried to drag you into the river. We need to get into the forest.” He shook his head, pushing a hand through his hair. “It will be harder for the damn things to track us in there.”

She looked at him for a long moment, seeing his eyes flicker past her and she decided to trust him, for now. “Alright, we’ll go, then.” She straightened her backpack, rolled her shoulders and cracked her neck. Then, she stepped away from him and towards the trees. “But you don’t have to drag me along like I’m an addlebrained child.”

She heard his footsteps slighting behind her and to her left but she didn’t look back at him. “Woman, I think it’s for the best if we don’t discuss the state of your brains at the moment.”

His voice was a low snarl that did wonderful things to her libido before she squelched those thoughts and threw it in a locked trunk. She relaxed when he didn’t grab her arm again as they walked along the damp grass towards the treeline.

Then her brain caught the words that he’d snarled and she turned towards him and stuck her tongue out at him in a juvenile manner, but didn’t stop moving, her own eyes wandering around.

If he saw her response, he didn’t say anything regarding it. So, she called it a victory and tried to focus on the problem at hand. First of all, what the hell was he even doing here? She didn’t think the Labyrinth was close enough to here that he could have just heard her scream. Also, his comment about telling her last night to not cross the river confused her.

Her brow furrowed, remembering the phone conversation with what sounded like her mother, but didn’t have the same inflection.

_Stay on your side of the river._

Her eyes kept drifting over towards the man - was he a man? - who walked to her side. He was wearing a slim-fitted long vest, with a poet's shirt beneath. Dark trousers with a pattern in the leather that was reminiscent of snake skin. Fine leather boots that went up to his knees. On top he wore a cape that stopped below his knees, but still didn’t brush the top of the grass. It was difficult to stop looking at him.

He moved with a grace over the rough terrain that she knew many people would give their left foot to manage. She stumbled several times, but managed to not trip, but still he moved with unerring steps across the ground. She wondered, for a moment, if the boots were magic, and kept him from stumbling.

Once they reached the tree line, she paused to catch her breath, because even at the slower pace, she’d had to work to keep up with him. She leaned against a tree, lifting one hand to push the sweat soaked hair from where it stuck to her face.

She’d only leaned against it for a moment when Jareth’s arm snaked around her waist and spun her away from it. She was ready to snap at him when she saw a twisted, branch-like arm extended towards where they stood, reaching for her. Her breath hitched, and she curled her hands in the fabric beneath them. The leather of his vest was butter soft under her fingertips.

The leather of his vest hadn’t just tried to kill her like the tree.

Slowly, that arm retracted up into the upper branches and she swallowed hard. After a moment, she lifted her gaze, looking up at Jareth. He was still looking at the tree. When she lowered her eyes, she saw she’d left creases in that fine vest, and she gave a bit of a tremble. Her hands flattened, brushing over the vest, trying to smooth the wrinkles she’d just left behind.

Now he looked at her again, and for a moment, it was like he was trying to decide if he was annoyed or amused. Her hope was that he was leading towards the latter.  
Three times, now, she realized. He’d saved her three times.

“I suppose it’s good to see that some things never change.” He said, lifting a brow and meeting her gaze. “You’ve grown no more cautious with age. Spellbound by the woods, tripping and almost landing in a bog, blindly jumping across a river into god only knows what-”

He cut himself off, there, annoyance winning, now. Then, his expression changed, something sad and troubled in his eyes. He released her, stepped back, and paced away from her, a hand pushing through his hair with violence.

Wild and beautiful as starlight, she thought. She couldn’t have said, right then, if she was thinking about the hair or the man.

When he spoke again, his voice was tight. “This isn’t your world, Sarah. You crossed that stream, and when you landed on the opposite bank, you stepped into my world. Getting here was simple. Getting home will be a far greater challenge.”

She stepped towards him, looking him in the eye. “I knew what would be on this side of the stream, Jareth. I knew where I was going. I didn’t do it blindly. I made a choice.”

He stopped, turned towards her. His eyes were hard as ice. “You mean to say you just -”

She lifted a hand, asking him for silence for a moment. Then, she shifted her bag around, pulling the leather scroll from inside of it and then shouldering her pack again. She lifted it in her hand and saw his eyes fixated on it.

He stepped back, and shook his head a bit.

She nodded. “The day my grandmother died, she gave me a box. This was in it. So was this…” She pulled the necklace from her shirt by the chain, letting it hang there. “My bequest and my burden, she’d called it. The night she died, I dreamed that I saw her on this side of the river. A faerie creature on horseback took her into the forest.”

He took the scroll, his eyes filled with emotions she couldn’t name. Grief and temper, hope and fear. She watched his throat bob as he tried to restrain the emotions. Then he pulled the tie that held the scroll shut, unrolling it. He looked down at that map for a long time before he lifted his eyes, focusing on the pendant. Then, he shook his head, rolling that leather up, tying it and plopping it back into her hand.

“That’s a fool’s errand, and I told her that she shouldn’t make you shoulder it.”

That made her blink, startled, and she tilted her head in confusion. He wouldn’t look at her. “What?”

He stepped towards her, his finger snaking under the chain and she felt her heart spike as he trailed them down the length of chain to the pendant. It was with care that he lifted it and slipped it underneath the collar of her shirt until it was hidden, again. “Let it go, Sarah. Let this secret die.”

He stepped back, then turned away from her. “Come, I’ll escort you home. Otherwise, who knows what trouble you’ll end up in.”

Temper scraped at her and she stalked towards him, circled around him, lifting the ash wand, tip pointed at his chest. “That would be just fine, Jareth, if I hadn’t been chased by faerie creatures the night she died, and then chased again right before I crossed over. She told me that she could keep me hidden from them until she died.”

Jareth leaned away from the tip of the wand, his discomfort visible.

“So, Jareth, I can’t just let this go. I can’t just go home. Grandmammy Rhi is gone, and if those things are going to chase me until the day I die, I want to at least know why they’re putting in the damned effort.”

He snarled, pacing away from her, his expression irritated. “Stubborn -”

She lowered the tip of the wand to the ground, and took a step towards him. “Jareth, why are you even here? I know this can’t be close to the Labyrinth or the Castle beyond the Goblin City.”

He stopped pacing, but he didn’t turn to look at her. She saw the muscles in his jaw flex as if he was grinding his teeth, and when he spoke, she was again amazed that he could speak with his jaw clenched up like that. 

“Because, Sarah, like every other creature in this realm, I heard your scream when the merrow tried to drag you into the river.” He scoffed. “Honestly? Just dipping your hand in, even though by your own words, you knew this was faerie land? I thought you’d be smarter than that after your trek through the Labyrinth.”

At first, she was surprised he answered her, then he turned around and insulted her in the next breath. She bared her teeth, not feeling generous in the slightest. “Sorry to disappoint, your majesty. Since you don’t want to or can’t help me with my errand, I’ll handle myself from here. Just keep out of my way, and I’ll get out of your realm and out of your life as soon as possible.”

She turned on her heel, started walking into the woods.

His hand caught her elbow, again. That contact caused a flash of memories that overlapped. One was from when the merrow had tried to take her. The second was from days ago.

Her stepping forward into that stream she’d been warned to never cross. A hand on her elbow, stopping from moving further forward. It had snapped her out of whatever trance she’d been in that day, but she hadn’t seen anyone there when she’d turned around.

Once again, that hold stopped her and she was unable to take another step forward, staring into the darkness between the tree trunks.

“Sarah,” his voice was softer, now. Still frustrated, but also gentle. “It isn’t safe.”

She turned towards him, seeing the changes in his voice on his face as well. Her brow furrowed and lips pulled into a frown. She was drawing conclusions and she wasn't entirely certain she liked them.“You said that you heard me like every other creature here did. But you beat those dog-things to me, were able to get me out of the merrow’s grip before it drowned me.”

His eyes widened, as if he could see that she was drawing inferences from the things he’d said. He glanced away, not letting her see his eyes, again. His lips had pulled into a deep frown, as well. “They’re called pooka, and they’re shapeshifters. I’m certain that for them the ‘dog-like’ appearance is simplest.”

She shifted around him so she was looking him in the eyes. He tried to turn away again and she grabbed his vest, curling her fist into the deep v of the neckline.

He’d mentioned things since he’d saved her that had happened in the last week or two. Things he shouldn’t have known, things he shouldn’t have seen. She searched his eyes for a long moment and saw something not unlike fear in his. When she spoke, she kept her voice soft, not wanting him to run. “Did you keep me from crossing the stream that day, Jareth?”

His eyes narrowed, anger in them. She watched his teeth clench again, bared at her. When he spoke, he spat the answer out at her. “Yes.”

She released his vest, stunned, turned, walked away for a moment to gather her thoughts. How long had he been watching her? Just since she came to her grandmother’s home? Or longer? That was both frightening and exciting, but she shoved those thoughts in the same locked box she’d shoved the other thoughts about him, focusing on the matter at hand.

When she turned back to him, and saw the angry frustration in his expression, she remembered the other times she’d seen his jaw flex like that and she realized that she’d compelled him to answer her. He wasn’t saying it because he wanted to. Still, she had to ask the next question, even if she didn’t want to.

“Jareth, when you heard that cry that everything else here heard, did you know it was me?”

She watched as his lips thinned to a hard, angry line. There was no amusement in his face, just temper, but as scary as that was, she needed the answer. She watched his jaw flex, saw him struggle to not answer the question.

“Yes.”

He knew she’d screamed, and he’d come to save her.

That thought was absurd, wasn’t possible, but he’d just told her that he had known it was her. Why else would he have come and saved her? Not twice, not three times. At least four times that she knew of, Jareth had saved her from being taken by the fair folk. Sarah’s knees gave out and she flopped down on the ground, right where she stood. 

Jareth apparently didn’t expect that reaction, because he just jumped back a half-step. He was looking at her, his expression now cautious. Still, given his nature, it could slip over to temper easy enough, she thought.

She set the ash wand across her lap, braced her elbows on her knees, and put her face in her hands. There were a million other questions she wanted to ask, but she wouldn’t. It wasn’t fair to him, she decided, using faerie rules to force him to tell her things. She didn’t want that, even if it was easier. He resented every time she compelled him to answer her, and she’d seen it in his eyes with that last question.

She sat there for a long moment, and after a brief time, he crouched next to her, a frown on his lips. He didn’t ask if she was okay, but he stayed there with her, didn’t run off and leave her.

_Why?_

Instead of speaking, she took the moment to gather her bearings, to think. She’d already spent too much time not thinking, just acting with impulsiveness that would bring shame to a two year old. Or a teenager.

She lifted her head, looking him in the eyes, and heaving a sigh. He was too beautiful, even with that faint hint of concern in his eyes. “I won’t do that again, Jareth.” She shook her head, rubbing the back of her neck, trying to convince herself that this wasn’t going to cause trouble. “I promise.”

He looked bemused by that promise, and he shifted, inclining his head. “It would make your life easier if you did. I am what I am, Sarah.” Still, he slipped his gloved hand over hers, then stood, using the hold to pull her to her feet. The trip was easy, he didn’t treat her as rough as he had at first. “We should keep moving.”

She nodded, and after a moment’s consideration, she decided if this was going to work, she was going to have to try to trust him. She wrapped her hand around his, looking at his eyes. “No tricks?”

Again was that sparkle of amusement deep in those eyes, again. His lips twisted into a smirk that reminded her of times past, when he stood opposite her as a villain, the black king in his own game. “Where’s the fun in that?”

She gave him a knowing look, not taking a step forward with him for a moment. He gestured for her to go ahead, still grinning that mischievous way that caused flutters in her chest.. She narrowed her eyes at him a bit, but began walking at his side, not pulling her hand from his.


	5. Chapter 5

Sarah wasn’t certain how long they’d been walking, but she was starting to list something fierce. Her footsteps faltered and she knew soon her feet just wouldn’t carry her any further. She remembered the incident with the tree she’d leaned against and did her best to not reach for any in search of support. Still, it was long before evening that her feet refused to move. She drug a foot forward, and when she set it down, the whole leg just gave out.

She would have fallen, but an arm around her waist kept her upright. She lifted her head, eyes dragging up to Jareth’s face, searching his eyes. There was frustration and concern there. The frustration was expected, the concern was a surprise.

“Did you not rest at all before you came here, you precious fool?”

She lifted a hand, trying to grip his arm, to help him support her. Her limbs felt as solid as water. With a sigh, she shook her head. “I slept a little the night before last. When those things showed up, I ran, and didn’t get a wink of sleep. I had to deal with...everything the next day, and set out just before sundown. Those howls kept me up last night.”

Whatever he said sounded very uncomplimentary, but she couldn’t understand the words, and only got the tone. The tone gave enough of a message, but she couldn’t disagree with his assessment, right then. He shifted his grip, and she felt his muscles flex against her as he lowered them both to the grass. Feeling that reminded her that she was, in fact, a red-blooded adult woman, and frankly, she’d like to feel those muscles a bit closer, but before she even thought to follow those thoughts, she shoved them in that same locked trunk with the rest of her libido.

She did, however shift so her head came to rest on his shoulder, a sigh leaving her. Sitting like this, she could hear the steady beat of his heart under her ear. She tried very hard to not think about how comfortable this was, being held against his strong chest, his arms around her.

Safe, protected.

His heartbeat sounded just like hers.

He gave a grumpy sounding sigh. “Just like always, running headlong into danger, no rest, no preparation. Just dive in headfirst and hope for the best. Bloody hell, do you enjoy making others worry?”

She felt his hand run over her hair and she gave a quiet sigh. 

“Not particularly. Honestly, I don’t tend to expect people to worry about me. Especially not grumpy kings who barge into my life at their whim,” she mumbled back to him, not able to muster any temper for her response. She shifted towards his warmth, giving a quiet sigh. She had a million questions she wanted to ask, a million thoughts running through her exhausted brain. And she didn’t have nearly the energy or mental capacity to put a single one into words, right then.

She heard him scoff, felt his breath ruffle her hair. Then, a warm, leather wrapped hand smoothed over her bare arm, leaving a tingling trail in its wake. “On a whim, now, is it, precious?”

She opened her tired eyes, looking up at him. He was looking down at her, those blue eyes almost annoyed.

“Must have been. You had no reason to save me and every reason not to,” she said, giving him a tired and knowing smile. It was too much work to keep her eyes open, and she was quite content to lay in his arms at least for now. “Last time I saw you was twenty years ago, and you can’t say we parted on particularly amicable terms. I figure you probably still fancy giving me a trip into the Bog of Eternal Stench.”

He went quiet for a long moment, and she drifted on the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear, the soft caress of his hand on her arm, the rustle of his breath through her hair.

When he spoke, his voice was just as quiet as hers had been. “I have a million reasons to save you.”

She figured she must be dreaming. She had to be, there was no way Jareth would say something like that to her. Still, she smiled at the imagined words and snuggled further into his warmth. She wasn’t certain how long he would let her stay like this, curled up against his chest. Before she could consider the potential ramifications of taking a nap on the Goblin King, she drifted off into a doze.

She wasn’t certain how long he let her stay like that, but the next thing she knew, her pillow was moving as he shifted around. Then, a fingertip brushed across the cupid’s bow above her lip and she inhaled something that had been on his gloved fingertip. It was like she’d been kicked in the ass by a draft horse. She yelped and almost shot out of his lap, heart palpating, brain going into overdrive. She felt over sensitive and hyper aware of everything, including the man she was laying against.

She thought the only thing that kept her from launching herself into the treetops was the arm of the smug bastard who held her.

“What the fuck?!” She gasped the words, eyes watering from whatever she’d just inhaled. Her hands clasped at his shoulders and she felt the undeniable urge to move. 

When he spoke, she heard the amused tone of his voice, and she tried to see his face through her watering eyes. “It’s a stimulant. We can’t afford to be stationary for much longer, and this will keep you moving for a while. Still, even this has its limitations.”

“You asshole,” she gasped, shifting and squirming. It felt like her skin was trying to crawl off of her. Too many cups of coffee back to back with no food. She shifted again, hands curled into tight fists against butter soft leather.

His arm stayed around her like that, and a hand was running down her back, as if to sooth her.

When she felt like her head wasn’t going to implode from the stuff, she drew back enough to look at him. Her hands were still curled in hard fists against his chest. She was probably rumpling his vest, again. She didn’t care much, right then. She felt like she’d just mainlined espresso.

“You have got to stop drugging me whenever we meet,” she managed to gasp, looking into his face. This close, she could see the way his skin seemed to shimmer in the dim light, the way his hair seemed to glow. Shit, he was beautiful after a day's trek through the forest, and she probably looked like a wild woman of the woods.

“It can have a bit of a bite,” he said, and his voice was still too amused, like he found the situation quite entertaining. “Really, though, Sarah. I didn’t drug you with the peach, that was Hogsnot.”

“On your orders,” she managed, hands growing tighter against the fine muscles of his shoulders. “Dammit, Jareth…”

Once she didn’t feel like letting go of the bastard would have her launching to the moon, and she’d settled a bit, he shifted his hold and stood up, helping her to her feet.

She gave him a biting glare for a moment, held it until she knew he saw it, but he didn’t respond to her temper, just tilted his head and gave her another of those smirks that reminded her too much of the past. Something about it made her heart squeeze in her chest, and she tossed that in the locked box, too.

“Ready to continue?”

She blinked, saw him offering his hand to her. She felt a bit wary, accepting it, again, but when she hesitated, he simply reached forward and took hers, then continued walking. Once she was calmer, and didn’t quite want to rip his beautiful head off his shoulders, she spoke again.

“Thank you. For helping me.”

He glanced towards her, and then turned his gaze before them, again. “Don’t.”

She blinked, glancing back towards him. “Why, not?”

He paused, turning towards her, his face serious. “Because, you shouldn’t. You know faerie rules, Sarah. You figured out quickly enough that you could force my answers by using my name. You know that ash makes faerie creatures uncomfortable. You’ve cold iron in your pocket - yes, I’m aware it’s there. If you thank a faerie creature, you’re acknowledging that you owe it a favor. Regardless of what I’m doing, I assure you this, it’s not for selfless reasons. I am what I am, Sarah. Eventually, I’d come to collect.”

She swallowed hard at the warning under those words. Then, she looked at him, and bit her lower lip for a moment. Then, she stepped towards him, looking into those eyes. “Liar.”

He bristled.

“Is that why you saved me, then? So I’d owe you a favor? Is that why you keep saving me?”

He looked away from her, his jaw clenched, and she saw when he realized she hadn’t forced him to answer her. He looked back at her, and there was an unexpected wariness in his eyes. As if he wasn’t sure he should answer that or not.

The silence stretched between them, and then his eyes slanted away from hers before she looked away from him. She took that as an answer. Whatever had happened between them in the Labyrinth, whatever was happening now, he cared enough to offer her aid without demanding return on services rendered.

They started walking, again, this time in silence.

So, when a horrible and familiar sound met her ears, she went very still. Her hand in Jareth’s pulled him to a halt, and he turned, frowning. She ignored him for a time, listening hard, lifting her finger to her lips to hush him when he opened his mouth to speak.

Hooves, restless and thundering, and growing closer by the second.

She could see when Jareth realized what that sound was, too. He went pale, and using the grip he still had on her hand, started running, practically dragging her along with him. She didn’t complain or argue, this time, she simply held on to his hand and hoped she could keep up with the pace he was setting, because he was fast.

“Dullahan,” he said, his voice grim and furious. “You precious little fool, what the devil did you do to end up catching _their_ attention?!”

She would have answered that she’d done _nothing at all_ , but she couldn’t draw enough breath at the pace he was setting in order to speak. The speed of their flight didn’t seem to matter, either, because the sound of hooves on soft ground was growing louder, still.

Then, Jareth came to an abrupt stop, tilting his head as if listening for something else, his expression the furthest she’d ever seen from a human one since she’d known him. There was something feral in his eyes, something angry. Then, his nostrils flared, and he started pulling her in a different direction, running at that same desperate pace. She was about to beg for him to slow down, but that noise was still behind them, and it scared her more than he did, right then.

When he stopped running, it was abrupt, and she ran into his back. He stood still, looking around the clearing in the trees. She looked past him and saw there were many beautiful horses grazing, with gleaming black fur and manes. Their black eyes seemed to hold galaxies in them. She stared at them, amazed.

“Kelpie,” he said, his tone just as grim as before. She looked up at him and found his eyes narrow, as he looked at them. Then, he moved forward, his pace still quick, but at least he wasn’t running, anymore. He moved between them, looking each in the eyes, before he stood before the largest stallion in the field. As she watched him, his free hand lifted, curling into the mane and pulling the massive head down until he could look the creature in the eye.

If he said anything at all, she didn’t hear him. She could smell a strange tang in the air, and then Jareth nodded his head. Then he turned towards her.

“Get on.”

“What?” She balked, shaking her head. “No, Jareth, no, I know nothing about riding horses -”

“You won’t need to know how to keep your seat on it.” He wasn’t taking no for an answer in this case. He grabbed her and boosted her onto the bare back of the massive horse that stood at least 18 hands high.

“Jareth?”

He released her hand, staring up at her, his face serious. “I can’t outrun the horses of the Dullahan, Sarah. But this beast can. So just shut up this once and do as you’re told.”

She shook her head and struggled to answer, wondering why he wasn’t getting on the damn horse, too, then.

“Jareth-”

His eyes got a taste of his formidable temper, but she thought she saw a bit of fear in his eyes, as well. “I’ll catch up. Just give it its head, until it tires.”

Sarah looked up and she saw dark, headless riders approaching them through the trees. She shook her head, looking at him. “Jareth?!”

He looked away from her, towards the treeline, and she saw something about his manner change. He lifted his hand, and slapped the horse’s flank one time, very hard. The horse reared up and she grabbed it’s mane just before it bolted away from the dark riders.

Sarah whipped her head back to look for Jareth, but she lost her view of him within moments. Her chest heaved, and she felt the telltale prick of tears in her eyes. She couldn’t throw herself off the horse, all she could do was hold on, because if she fell off, it’d kill her at this speed. So she clung to the horse as it charged through the trees at a blinding speed.

She heard a loud sound like an explosion and she looked back again to see if Jareth was following behind them. Instead, she saw an explosion of light which reminded her of the old footage of the testing of the atomic bomb.

Power and light exploded from behind her, bent the trees down and held them as wind rushed towards her and the horse she rode on. Fear choked her and she hid her face against the horse’s mane. There was no way she could survive if that caught up, and she knew it. But the horse seemed to stay just ahead of that wave of power.

Then, as sudden as the explosion had happened, all that expanding power seemed to stop, and then it imploded, sucked back in on itself.

A moment later, the stallion Jareth had tossed her onto stopped, it’s breaths ragged, spittle foamed around its mouth. She twisted on it’s back to look behind her, staring through the trees, waiting for any sign of that faerie prick to show his damn face through the trees so she could really yell at him.

The silent stillness that came after seemed, to her, louder than the explosion itself had been. She looked around, twisting to check all sides. Her breath sobbed out of her.

She couldn’t see him. She wasn’t even certain he was still alive.

The only word that left her was weak and tired and stared and she felt like her whole world was crashing around her like the crystal ballroom.

“ _Jareth…_ ”


	6. Chapter 6

Sarah wasn’t certain how long she had stared at the point the horse had come through the trees, waiting for Jareth to appear behind her. He’d said he would catch up. But before he’d sent her on her way, she’d seen fear in his eyes, as if he wasn’t certain he could fight them off, himself.

Why hadn’t he gotten on the damn horse with her?

Why did that idiot just send her on her way, alone?!

And if was okay, why the fuck wasn’t he here, yet?

The horse she sat on was getting restless, stomping it’s hooves and digging at the mossy ground beneath it. It was pacing back and forth, and she tried to soothe it with a hand on it’s withers. As if the contact reminded it of the rider, the horse broke into a ground eating trot, continuing away from where Jareth was.

“Wait -” She tried using her grip on the stallion’s made to reign it in, but the horse reared, whinnied and took off at a full gallop once again. By all rights, she should have been thrown when it reared, almost standing vertical on it’s hinds. She should have bounced off when it landed hard enough to make her teeth rattle.

But she didn’t. She stuck to it’s back as if she’d been superglued to it.

She felt a prickle along her nerves, remembering a warning from her grandmother.

“ _Beware beautiful wild horses, girl, because that might be a kelpie, wanting to give you your last ride._ ”

A kelpie. Jareth had called it that, she realized, and the blood drained from her head, panic flooding her.

A fae horse, known best for being more than willing to let someone mount them, offering rides at the cost of your life. It would bolt for the nearest body of water and drown the rider, and Jareth had tossed her up on one, even knowing what it was.

Fear was starting to strangle her as the creature ran at a flat gallop through the trees. Ahead of them, she could see a strip of water, and the horse was heading for it at breakneck speed. She closed her eyes tight, ducking her head down and Jareth’s name fell from her lips in a terrified whimper.

She was going to die, she thought. This horse was going to kill her.

The horse reared again, but this time, it didn’t run further. It seemed to have almost sat back on its hind legs in order to stop. The kelpie fidgeted, stomping its feet restlessly, but it didn’t break into another frantic gallop. It seemed like it wanted to, but something was keeping it from doing so.

Still scared, Sarah lifted her head with caution and opened her eyes, finding Jareth standing there between the horse and a lake. His hand was extended in front of him, and there was a stern look on his face. Her breath rushed out of her, and she tried to untangle her hands from the wild mane she’d been clinging to.

Jareth stalked towards them, grabbing the horse by the mane, again, glaring into one of the horse’s wild, roving eyes for a long moment. When he spoke, she didn’t understand a word he’d just said, but the word rolled like thunder in a summer storm off his tongue.

The horse went very still beneath her, and it seemed as tame as any horse for that moment.

The Goblin King looked up at her, his blue eyes searching hers for a moment, and then she felt the leather of his glove against her hand, and it closed around hers.

There was a crackle, one that bordered on pain, everywhere she was in contact with the horse. It brushed from her hands in the hair then from one ankle to the other, and when it ran between her thighs, she realized that was quite a pleasant sensation and a blush lit her cheeks. She didn’t have long to dwell on that, however, because as soon as the kelpie’s magic released her, she slid sideways off the horse.

She tried to catch herself, but her legs had turned to rubber from fear and the hard ride, and she found they wouldn’t support her weight.

Jareth’s hands remained under her elbows, supporting her and keeping her from falling on the ground. She stared up at him, mute for a long moment, even as she heard the horse running away.

“Oh,” she breathed, unable to tear her eyes from his face. “You’re still alive.

His fine, slanted eyebrows arched. When he spoke, his tone sounded somewhat clipped with annoyance.

“Don’t sound so disappointed, Sarah,” he quipped, but he didn’t step back from her or release her arms, still gently supporting her. “I might start to think that you don’t like me.”

His words weren’t funny, but she gave a rough, panicked laugh. Her hands curled in the soft sleeves of his shirt and she clung to him. An unexpected and unwelcome tear escaped her control and rolled down her cheek.

How many times, now? Five times? Six? Could she even really keep track, since he’d been saving her since before she knew he was there?

She tried very hard to get control of her fear, her relief, her tears, but the whole thing had scared the liver out of her. Thinking she was going to have to face this alone had frightened her. Thinking Jareth might have -

One hand lifted to her mouth, stifling the sob that left her. She was as helpless to stop the second tear as she’d been to prevent the first.

She knew he saw the tears on her cheeks, but there was nothing she could do to make them stop. She hung her head, still trying to control herself, but the tears just turned into desperate, painful sobs. She kept right on clinging to him, even when some of the feeling had returned to her legs.

After a moment, she felt his hands lift her face, and leather gloves brushed the tears from her cheeks.

She hadn’t even cried when she’d found her grandmother dead. But here she was, hysterical, when Jareth was still alive and right in front of her. 

What the fuck was wrong with her?

He didn’t speak, didn’t say a word, while he brushed her tears away. He didn’t try to tell her everything would be okay. He just stood there, letting her cling to his sleeves while she sobbed, hysterical, because she’d thought he’d died.

She appreciated that, she didn’t really fancy the idea of him lying to her.

She didn’t know how long he let her do that, but as the tears came to an end, he spoke. His voice was quiet, and sanitized of any emotions, as well. “You’re tired. The Dullahan will require some time to regroup, now. Let’s set up camp, and we’ll continue on in the morning.”

She took his words, the promise in them, and clung to them like a lifeline. All she managed for an answer was the nod of her head. She felt his hands release her and she had to work, to force herself to return the favor. There was no way he wanted her clinging to him and crying like a child.

Once he stepped away and worked towards getting a fire going, she set her pack down, riffling through it until she found the loaf of bread. A sigh of relief escaped her when she saw that the bag had protected it from the incident at the river. She tore off a chunk of the bread, sighing in a heavy way as she took the first bite. 

The stillness drew her attention back to her companion and she saw him watching her with bemused interest. When he spoke, she thought she may have heard relief in his voice. “I’m almost impressed. You remembered to bring safe food.”

She gave him a biting smile. 

“And a sleeping bag,” she said, pretending she didn’t hear the rasp in her voice from crying, the tremble in it from weakness and exhaustion. Her eyes still burned, and a headache was coming on. “And an extra wick and oil for the lantern.”

He smirked, as though amused. “But not water.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, wondering if he was trying to pick a fight or lighten her mood. She couldn’t tell.

As she watched, he sat and shifted, leaning on a hummock of moss that gave a relaxing looking incline. His beautiful eyes lifted towards the canopy of trees.

He hadn’t mentioned her emotional display, hadn’t teased her about how she’d clung to him like a lifeline only minutes ago.

She wondered if he realized how much she appreciated that.

After a moment’s consideration, she tore another chunk off the bread, then packed it away.

“Here,” she offered, reaching out to give him the hunk of crusty bread.

He blinked, looking back at her, as if he hadn’t expected her to offer him any. He looked at the bread, wary, but still, he reached forward and took it. He was sitting, now, his expression hard from beneath his thick lashes. He didn’t try to eat it.

Faerie rules, he couldn’t refuse gifts of food. She knew that, but this had nothing to do with that. Still, if it made him more comfortable, she’d make something up.

She gave him a pointed look, lifting a brow, forcing her lips into a frown. “You’re the one who said you’d be expecting a return favor if I thanked you for your help. The least I can do is offer to share my food with you.”

He relaxed, and a smirk curved his lips. That was all she needed to say for him to understand that she wasn’t trying to use his own rules against him, again. That was a relief. She wondered, if that meant he was warming to her, even if they spent most of their time since this reunion snipping at one another.

She hesitated, wanting to ask some of the questions that had been twisting through her brain since he’d pulled her from the river. She took a bite of the bread to give her a chance to think before she spoke. “The other day, you said you’d spoken to my grandmother.”

She didn’t phrase it as a question, didn’t try to force him to answer her. She wanted information, but she didn’t want to ruin this near relaxed atmosphere, either.

As she watched him, his eyes snapped towards her. Then, he gave his focus to the bread in his hands, tearing a bit of the outside crust off, and biting it. She wondered if he was using it the same way she had.

Buying time.

When he swallowed his bite, he looked at her, again, and his expression was cooler, again. “And?”

She blinked, worrying her lower lip with her teeth. “I just...wanted to know when that was. I’ve been with her for a few months, now. I tried to stay close to the house in case she needed me. But I don’t remember seeing you, at all.”

She knew he wasn’t going to give her information before he spoke. When he did, his tone was chilled, words clipped. “You wouldn’t. Just as you didn’t see me when I stopped you from crossing the stream.”

She narrowed her eyes at him for a moment, trying to figure out why he was being uncooperative. He didn’t seem to want to give her any information unless she forced it out of him, but she felt as though since he’d seen her again, she’d lived up to his expectations plenty. Rather than bristling as she wanted to, she turned away from him, shoulders sagging.

Was he angry because he thought she wasn’t glad he was alive? Or was he uncomfortable with the unwanted display of emotion she’d shown? She hadn’t even cried as a teenager when she’d run his Labyrinth. Why was he so pissed off with her, now?

She looked back at him, and noticed that he was just picking at the bread, still. In the firelight, his skin looked paler than usual. The luminous glow he’d had before the Dullahan chased them had given way to a waxy appearance. His jaw was tight, his brow tense. With a start, she realized he was in pain.

“Jareth -” She bit back the question on her tongue, jaw clicking shut. She’d promised she wouldn’t do that, she couldn’t force him to tell her. Even if it was an accident, it wasn’t okay. Not to her, anyways. She shook her head hard to clear the thoughts, finished up her meager meal and pulled out her sleeping bag.

He was right about that at least. She needed to rest now, before those damn things came back.

Especially if he was hurting, too.

That bothered her, the idea that he could be in pain, that protecting her came at so severe a cost.

Unrolling the bag, she crawled in, trying to not think about it, but unable to stop.

Was that the real reason for this break? How much energy and power had he been forced to use to cover her escape? How much energy and power had he been using to save her each time her naivety put her in a situation where she ended up in danger.

Again, she wondered how many times he’d actually saved her.

She pulled her pack over and the scroll out, pulling the tie and unrolling it on her lap, leaning over it.

And her breath caught in wonder.

In the dark, even with the light of the fire, she could see a tiny spot on the map that glowed bright like a star. That spot was next to a marked lake, surrounded by trees. She could see the symbol for camp next to it. Amazed, she looked at Jareth.

He was glaring at the map.

“I think the map shows where I am. Is that what I’m seeing?”

His eyes lifted to hers, and in the firelight they glittered cold like steel. “Sarah, the map is of no importance. What is important is getting you back where you belong, safe and fast.”

She glared at him, frustrated. Her worry for him was shoved into a back corner of her mind. “It’s important to me.”

He waved a hand, impatient. “You don’t even know what you’re trying to look for.”

“And you won’t tell me, even though I’m involved, even though nightmares from your world are content to come after me wherever I am. Where does this map lead to?!”

He growled. That noise, again, did things to her libido that she struggled to not notice right then. “You precious fool. I don’t know if you understand what I did back there. That power flare detained the Dullahan for the moment. The pooka? I turned their gaze by the river, but they’ll still be after you, too. Never mind whatever else gets into it’s mind that you’re easy pickings because you’re a mortal.”

He wasn’t budging. He wouldn’t tell her.

She gave a sighed in disappointment, looking at the map, again, biting her lower lip. She could see the glow coming from where she was on the map, could see a fainter glow where the cross marked where she wanted to go as well. Her fingers traced the shortest line between the two points.

When she didn’t respond, she heard him shift closer. Starlight hair drifted into her vision, and his hand came to rest over hers. Her eyes lifted and she saw him leaning over her, his expression hard, angry.

“Getting you home safely takes precedence over whatever Rhiannon wanted you to do here.”

She looked into his eyes, the glow from the leather map making them shine like they contained magic and universes she’d never see. Her heart twisted. “I’m not fighting with you about this. I said it before, if you can’t or won’t help me, I’ll go on my own.”

He snarled, jolting to his feet, pacing back and forth. “And end up dead at the hands of some other nightmare.”

She took a deep breath, and said the words on her tongue, anyways. “If that’s my fate, it won’t be your fault, Jareth.”

He turned towards her, that anger bordering on feral, but there was something else in his eyes, something more painful and it caused her heart to twist harder. He didn’t say anything, just looked at her like that, beautiful and luminous with his temper. He watched him false-start several times, before his expression closed off, cold, but still very angry.

“Rest, Sarah. Put the cursed thing away and go to sleep. We have precious little time for that before we’ll need to get moving again. I’m not changing my mind on this. Tomorrow, I’ll escort you home. This time, you’d better keep to your side of the veil.”

Her eyes narrowed at his face and she scowled at him. “We’ll talk about that in the morning, then.”

Angry, she rolled up the scroll, and rolled away from him and the fire, laying down. She heard him sigh, and the sound of him settling for the night.

She couldn’t explain why his refusal to entertain even the idea of helping her with this hurt her. He’d been saving her life, even at the cost to himself, but she had known he wanted to take her home from the start. He didn’t want her here, even before she’d come here.

He didn’t hate her, she thought, because if he did, why would he bother saving her? Had he made a bargain with her grandmother of some kind? If he had, he certainly wouldn’t tell her. He’d made that clear. If she didn’t order him to tell him, he wouldn’t tell her anything.

Why?

She wasn’t certain how long it took, drifting on her own thoughts before she fell asleep. She startled awake, and found the fire burning lower than it had been before. She lifted her head and looked around, finding Jareth sleeping, shivering, near the fire.

She wanted to hold on to the temper she’d had, earlier, but she remembered the gentle caress of his thumbs on her cheeks, brushing her tears away. She scowled at his sleeping form, because simple things like that could make her forgive him for being an insufferable prick. She climbed out of her sleeping bag, unzipped the heavy blanket, and tucked it around his shivering form.

She was heading back to where she’d first rested when a painful keened wail cut through the still silent night air. The cry startled her and her eyes darted to the trees. It sounded like a wounded animal, or someone who’d had their heart so broken it would never fully mend.

That miserable sound distracted her, drew her like a moth away from the relative safety of the camp. She started walking into the trees, forgetting her pack and the map, forgetting safe food, and warmth, and Jareth.

She walked up a hill through the trees, trying to find the source of the sound, her own curiosity compelling her movement. Her gaze swept back and forth through the forest, and then she saw something pale, moving through the trees away from her. Again that sound met her ears and she followed it.

From this distance, the person looked like they were sobbing. The same soul-tearing sorts she’d had earlier that day. She hurried after it, and between one step and her next, she felt the ground disappear beneath her feet, and she started to fall.

Her hand lashed out, catching a vine that was sticking out from the earth. In the dark, she couldn’t see anything around her, but she could feel that she was scraped, bruised, and there was dirt crumbling from above her. She could feel hard rock against her side, feel the pain from smashing against it when she’d caught the vine.

From above, she could hear that keening sound, again.

Swallowing hard, she lifted her gaze and saw a pale woman standing over her, looking at her. Her face was white as a sheet, hair red as blood in wild curls around her shoulders. Her eyes were red from crying, and Sarah could see the tears still on her face. It opened its mouth and keened again, this one so loud it shook her bones.

Sarah sucked in a sharp breath, closed her eyes, and screamed.


	7. Chapter 7

Swallowing hard, she lifted her gaze and saw a pale woman standing over her, looking at her. Her face was white as a sheet, hair red as blood in wild curls around her shoulders. Her eyes were red from crying, and Sarah could see the tears still on her face. It opened its mouth and keened again, this one so loud it shook her bones.

Sarah sucked in a sharp breath, closed her eyes, and screamed.

Her grip slipped, and she felt herself start to fall again and she whipped her other hand up, holding on in desperate fear. Her mind raced, and she looked around, trying to find a foothold, her feet scrambling at the sheer rock face of the cliff she’d slipped from.

All of Jareth’s ribs about how careless she’d been since she came here rang through her head and she squeezed her eyes tight, trying to pull herself up.

Jareth was right, she decided. She was a fucking disaster. Why the hell was she even here?

She took a deep breath, trying to pull herself a little closer to the top. Instead, she heard the vine she clung to snap and pop, felt it give a brief, sharp jerk downward beneath her weight. She opened her mouth, sucking in a deep breath, frantic, trying to find somewhere else to get a grip. Then, it popped, again, she felt it snap free and she started to fall again.

 _Jareth!_ Time seemed to slow around her, reminding her of the fall in the escher room, when she’d jumped for her brother.

This was it, she was going to die.

“ _Sarah!_ ”

The vine she still held jerked to a halt, again. It took her a moment to realize that someone had shouted her name. Fearful, she lifted her eyes again, to the edge of the cliff she’d fallen from and she saw Jareth leaning over, one hand bracing against the rock, the other holding the vine she held.

Whatever she’d seen before was gone.

The man snarled and she saw desperation in his eyes. “Sarah, you precious little fool, you’d better not let go of this damn thing. If I have to go to the Underworld and drag you back, I will be very, _very_ cross!” 

Something about that made her want to laugh, but she just nodded at him, desperate. Her breath sobbed out of her and as she stared up at him, he used his one-handed grip on the vine to start pulling her back up the side of the cliff.

God, he was strong, she realized, she could see his arms flex as he pulled. He disappeared for just a moment, and she realized he’d gotten to his feet and was pulling with both hands, now. Once her hands found a grip in the ground, he tossed part of the vine away, reaching and offering her his hand.

She didn’t want to release the ground, but he was a better handhold. She just hoped she didn’t accidentally pull him off with her. She forced her hand to let go of the crumbling, dry dirt, and he grabbed her arm. She wrapped her hand around his, just below the elbow, and he started pulling her up. Once she’d cleared the cliff, he fell backwards, and she landed on his heaving chest.

For a moment, she thought she was going to start crying, again. She could feel the hitch in her breath.

One of his hands was still around her arm. She felt the other come to rest on her hair, and she turned her face against where his neck met with his shoulder. He didn’t try to remove her from where she lay, just kept running his gloved fingers through her hair. From his neck, she detected what smelled like the air right before a lightning strike. Charged and metallic, and wrapped up with the smell of his skin.

Jareth’s breaths calmed, slowed as she calmed. Then, he shifted, bringing her into a seated position. He drew back enough to look her over and she thought she saw some of the panic that she’d felt, that she’d heard in his voice shining in his beautiful eyes. She stared at him, startled as his hands brushed over her face, holding her still while his eyes bored into hers. 

She thought, for a moment, that he was trying to make certain that she was okay.

He must have decided she was, because then his jaw flexed in a way that she only saw when she’d asked him a question he didn’t want to answer. But she hadn’t asked him anything. Then, the control he was exhibiting snapped.

“You bleeding _IDIOT_! What the _devil_ did you think you were doing?! _Were_ you fucking thinking?! Wanding off at night in hostile territory?! Are you trying to get yourself killed?!” He stopped, and she saw his jaw flex again, and he stopped looking at her. She watched him struggle with his temper and realized she’d scared him.

She curled in on herself a little bit, biting her lip, looking at her hands. They were torn up, abraded, and it hurt to curl them.

She hadn’t expected the yelling. She hadn’t expected him to swear, either. The shock of it silenced her, when if he’d been anything more mild, she’d have probably fought him. Right then, she couldn’t argue. He was right. She’d been fucking stupid.

Her breath hitched, and she remembered once again how close she’d come to death, this time. She lifted her eyes, forcing herself to look into his eyes, searching them for something.

He stared back at her, anger and worry warring on his face, then pushed his hand into his hair, until his head lowered dragging it along the back of his neck. “Goddammit, Sarah.”

“I’m sorry,” she offered, her voice tired and quiet, shaking and scared.

He lifted his face, looking startled at her apology for a moment. Then his brow furrowed again. He got to his feet, hand curled around her arm above the elbow, and he pulled her to her feet. Then, he half-dragged her back to camp.

Unlike the first morning, she didn’t struggle against him, didn’t voice a single objection.

As they moved through the trees back towards the camp, he muttered under his breath in several languages she didn’t understand peppered with English. She could see his temper in the rigid way he carried himself. When they reached the camp, he pointed towards where her sleeping bag had fallen. “Sit.”

The word came out more of a command than anything else he’d said to her since he’d pulled her from the river.

“Must be out of my damned mind,” he snarled, pacing away from her.

Still frightened and distressed, she did as he said, curling in on herself by the fire. Her own ability to insult herself had taken on the air of the appraisals he’d given of her in the last few days. She bit her lower lip hard enough that she tasted the sharp tang of blood in her mouth.

When he plopped on the ground in front of her, she realized that while he’d abandoned the sleeping bag, her pack was on his shoulders. That was a surprise. She inclined her head, wondering why he hadn’t just chucked the damn thing over the cliff at her. He couldn’t want to spend his time babysitting a grown adult.

He put his hand out to her, and she looked at him, confused. That wasn’t what he wanted, because temper sparked in his gaze, again, and he reached out, taking her wrist. Having her arm stretched out like that drew a groan from her, and she realized that she ached everywhere. She could see the chaffing and bruises weren’t just on her hands, now, in the firelight.

She was lucky to have her life, she had no right to complain about some bruises. Lifting her gaze to his, she saw his jaw was still tight, that he was still fighting the battle with his temper. Tonight had made her realize there was some fear twisted up with it. 

She turned her hand, brushing her fingers on the inside of his wrist, looking at him, trying to make her regret clear.

Instead of speaking, instead of looking at her, he lifted one of his hands to his teeth, drawing his glove off with his teeth. That scent she’d noticed at his neck filled the air around them, and he set his hand on her shoulder. His expression tightened further, and his fingers trailed from her shoulder all the way to her fingertips. Her skin tingled in the wake of the contact, and the pain started to numb. When he released her hand, she looked at her arm, again, seeing the scratches and bruises were gone.

Surprised, she looked at him. He was healing her.

“Don’t,” she whispered when he reached to take her other hand. She pulled it back to her chest. She didn’t want him to waste his energy when she’d been the one who was stupid.

He reached and caught her wrist, regardless. “If you’re determined to do this, you need to be at your peak -”

“You used too much earlier,” she objected, trying to pull the hand to her chest, shaking her head.

He sighed, and his other hand caught her chin, forcing her to look at him. She could still see that restrained temper in his eyes. “I have enough for this.”

A shaking breath escaped her, and she thought about his wording. Was he still going to make her leave? Forcing her to do this on her own, as she said she would the night before? She didn’t want that, she really didn’t. His presence had kept her from being too scared to do anything at all. His knowledge, his understanding of this world that wasn’t hers had kept her alive.

Again, his bare fingertips started at her shoulders, ran down her arm to her hand, and the pain died. She lifted her eyes, looking at him, afraid she was going to cry in front of him again, for a very long moment as she waited for him to tell her to go away, do her journey without dragging him along for it.

He wasn’t looking at her, however. He hadn’t released her hand, his fingertips brushing over her palm, tracing the lines that cut across it. “As long as you’re on this side of the veil, these things will keep coming after you. Do you really understand that? They’ll keep coming after you until you’re either dead or mad, and they won’t stop. They don’t need to rest like you do.”

His voice was quiet, grim and tired. He lowered her palm and lifted his bare fingers to brush them over her cheek, drawing her attention. She nodded her head, lowering her face.

“I know that. But I need to know why they came after me, what it is about this bequest that is drawing them. I can’t just ignore it.” She paused, feeling afraid and vulnerable. When she spoke again, she knew that vulnerable feeling was audible. “But I don’t think I can do this alone, either. So if you tell me I have to go home, I’ll...try.”

His hand fell away from her cheek, and he sighed, his own head hanging. He didn’t speak for a long moment, and when he looked at her, again, his expression was as grim as his voice. “Very well, then.”

Her heart fell in her chest for a moment. No, she couldn’t get disappointed, she’d told him she’d go if he told her to. But she’d hoped that he would help her.

“I’ll get you to the point on the map. But the second I say it’s time for you to go, you don’t get to argue, you go home, and you stay there, this time.”

What?

She blinked, not sure she heard what she thought she had. She wasn’t sure he wasn’t trying to trick her, wasn’t lying. But he’d never lied to her, before. He may hide things, he may play dirty tricks, yell, swear, anything else, but he didn’t lie to her.

He must have seen her hesitance to accept his word at face value. His lips curved into what might have been a self-deprecating sort of smile. “Would you prefer it if I promised?”

She stuck her hand out, looking at him in the eyes, not wanting this to be a trick.

He shook his head and laughed, a quiet chuckle. “A promise, then. Very well. I promise that I’ll get you to that point on your precious map. In return, all I ask is this - unless I tell you to run, don’t wander off. I seriously can’t take this many regular heart attacks back to back.”

She scoffed at the idea, but she felt a smile edging the corners of her lips as well. When he released her, he reclaimed his glove, pulling it back on, and she took a moment to miss the skin that had so briefly touched her. He turned his back to her, and she saw him banking the fire. That smell lingered in the air as he worked.

Shifting off the sleeping bag, she worked on rolling it back up so she could put it away in her pack. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate the help, but why? Why are you offering to help me, now? I know you don’t really want to.”

He gave a half-turn towards her. “As it happens, the most effective way to protect you is going to be giving you your way. You seem content to get this done regardless of any advice or warnings I may have, and I can’t stop you short of fighting you to a standstill.”

“Assuming you could stop me.”

He turned, and looked surprised by the teasing tone in her voice. He gave another chuckle, and rolled his eyes. 

She picked up the sleeping bag and reached for her pack. He shifted it off his shoulders so she could put the thick blanket into it. Once it was inside, she started closing the pack back up again.

He watched her work, seeming to consider her for a long moment before he spoke. “Thank you. For the blanket.”

She gave him a smile, lifting the bag and slinging it onto her shoulders, again. “Just returning the favor.”

The turn of his lips looked more like a real smile, this time. Once the flames had been fully extinguished, he offered her his hand, wrapped again in that butter soft glove. She wasn’t certain if knowing the feeling of his skin was going to drive her insane, but she already missed it.

She lifted her hand, setting it on his, and looked him in the eyes. “You’re not as bad as you pretended to be back then.”

He stilled, looking at her very close. For a moment, he looked as if she’d just stroked all of his feathers in a way that he liked very much. Smug and pleased as punch.

Then, that troubled expression she’d seen on his face from time to time swallowed the pleasure. His eyes searched hers for a long moment. “Actually, precious, I’m much, much worse.”

She stopped and looked at him, because he sounded so serious when he said it, she knew he believed it. Her brain also caught up with what he’d called her and she lifted an eyebrow as she wrapped herself in some sass. “You don’t seem to be trying to kill me, unlike literally everything else I’ve run into since I got here.”

His eyes held a wistfulness for just a moment, then he shook his head and heaved a sigh, looking skyward as if he wasn’t standing there, still holding her hand. “More courage than brains, honestly. Of everything else here, I’m the one who should scare you the most.”

“And yet, you’ve been pulling my fanny out of the fire since before it got here,” she reminded him again, looking him in the eyes. “Why is that, if you’re so much more dangerous to me?”

He wasn’t going to answer her, and she knew it before he spoke. His jaw flexed, that little tell. His throat bobbed a second later, as if he’d swallowed an answer that had been on his tongue. “Why, exactly, _aren’t_ you afraid of me?”

She looked him in the eyes, and a smile curved her lips. “Are you serious, your majesty? I have had scarier dreams about failing advanced chemistry.”

He pulled back just a bit, staring at her. “What?!”

She turned towards him, stepped towards him. She watched his eyes dilate when he realized how close she was standing to him. The surprise on his face gave her the courage to act like she had when she’d been facing him in the Labyrinth. “Everything that happened in the Labyrinth. None of it was meant to hurt me, was it? Slow me down, sure. Distract or stop me, definitely. And I’ve no doubt you’d have kept your end of the bargain if I’d lost. But Jareth? These things here are trying to kill me. In three days, I’ve almost been drowned twice, been hunted by things that can turn into nightmares, almost got snatched up by a dryad, and got tricked into walking off a cliff by whatever that _thing_ was.

“A banshee,” he said. “One of Death’s washer women.”

She blinked, staring at him and he shrugged.

She took a moment to shake herself, and looked at him, again. “After everything else has been trying to kill me, why the fuck should I be scared of the one person who hasn’t tried to hurt me since I’ve been here?”

He didn’t seem to have an answer to that, didn’t look like he’d even considered it. For a moment, he looked so lost, she had to smile. Still, in the back of his eyes was that troubled expression that she didn’t understand. So, she thought for a moment, pushed up onto her toes a bit and kissed him on the cheek.

When she landed back on her heels, his pupils looked like they were trying to swallow that thing ring of color around them. She gave him a mischievous grin, and pulled out the map, opening it up and looking away from him, giving him a moment to cover his surprise. “So, then, if I’m here, we need to go this way?”

She saw him shake himself from the corner of her eyes, and then he took the map. As she watched, he looked up at the sky, then, back at the map. Then, he pointed.

“This way,” he corrected, and waited until she packed the map away again. When it was back in her bag, she saw his hand extended to her, once again. His manner had changed a bit from before. She could still see temper, but she thought that was because of his concern, now. There was more of the mischief she remembered as a girl in his eyes and there was a grudging smile curving the corners of his thin lips.

She gave him a brilliant smile of her own and tucked her hand into his, feeling hope and confidence for the first time since she’d really started this trip. “Let’s go.”


	8. Chapter 8

“So,” Sarah said, conversationally during one of their infrequent breaks. Jareth had ensured she had some safe water to drink, and she needed a snack, or she was going to crash. “Are you ever going to be straight with me regarding your connection to my grandmother?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been straight with anyone,” Jareth said, glancing at her from the corner of his eyes as he took her pack from her, handing her the bag of beef jerky she’d packed away before leaving the cabin. Once it was in her hand, he shouldered the pack, as he’d done off and on since agreeing to take her to the point on the map.

The trip had taken them further from where he’d wanted to go, and she could tell. He was less testy with her about it, but he was still annoyed that she’d defied him.

She considered his wording, her lip half-twitching, almost a smile. If he was trying to distract her into changing the subject, it wasn’t going to work. But she tucked that thought away for later.

After a moment, he gave a sigh, when she didn’t take the bait. “Your grandmother ran the Labyrinth as well. I didn’t know at the time of your own journey through that you were her granddaughter. If I had, frankly, I wouldn’t have bothered trying to stop you.”

She blinked, looked at him and opened her mouth, for a long moment uncertain what she planned to say. “Grandmammy Rhi wished away someone?”

He smirked. She could tell he was enjoying this.

“Your mother, to be honest,” he sounded amused by that. “After she won your mother back, she ended up in other dealings with the faerie realms. No, I don’t know the entirety of what trouble she got onto here, Sarah.”

She hadn’t even started to ask when he side-stepped her next question by telling her outright he didn’t know. She almost pouted. “But you knew she was planning to give me the necklace and the map. You said you told her to not bother.”

He sighed, stopping and turning towards her. “I did. Occasionally when she wanted advice regarding our kind and our rules, she’d call upon me. It’s an unfortunate side effect that a successful runner can invoke the Goblin King after completing the Labyrinth. Your grandmother was very careful to learn the rules regarding when and why she would be able to.”

“So, then, it was just a coincidence that you were there by the stream when I almost crossed it accidentally?” She huffed, frowning. Maybe her imagination was over active, but she’d thought there was more to it than that.

“Yes, and no,” he said, but didn’t offer more information.

She pouted a bit, and he gave her a grin that was far too entertained.

“You do know how to force me to give you answers, precious.”

“Yes, but I don’t want to use that to force you to give me information.” She shook her head, turning back the way they’d been walking and stepping ahead of him. “It’s not fair to do that to you. I just wish you’d trust me enough to share the information without me needing to resort to faerie rules.”

“Sarah -” His voice stopped her and she turned towards him, lifting a brow.

He looked tired and frustrated, and she saw the muscle in his jaw flex, again. He stepped towards her, taking some of the hair that had fallen from her ponytail between two fingers, trailing over it. His eyes were fixed on the strands, rather than looking at her, as if he didn’t want to see her eyes while he said this. “I’m fairly accomplished at using a glamor. Not as accomplished, perhaps, as Rhiannon’s husband, but good enough to disguise myself from someone unaware of my presence. If I didn’t want you to know, you wouldn’t have recognized me.”

A glamor. She blinked, considering his wording with care.

Then, her brain caught up with the rest of his words.

She blinked, looking at him, startled. “Wait, Granddad died years ago.”

He shrugged. “The man you all knew as her husband died. Her actual husband came back across the veil to deal with his own kingdom, and waited for Rhiannon to join him, when her time in your world was spent. That man you saw riding away with your grandmother wasn’t your grandfather, but he was her husband. At least by our rules and her choice.”

Sarah stood still for a moment, chewing on that mentally. Her eyes met Jareth’s and she saw he was amused by her surprise. “You mean she’s still alive? Over here?”

He set a hand on the small of her back, coaxing her to start moving forward again. “Sarah, your grandmother is dead. Rhiannon isn’t human anymore. When her spirit crossed over into the faerie realms after the body’s death, she became bound by faerie rules.”

Which meant that Rhiannon wouldn’t even remember her. Sarah bit her lower lip, hard. “You used a glamor to sneak past me to talk to her?”

“Sneaking is such a rude way of putting it,” he scoffed, glancing at her from the corner of his eyes, again. Then, those enchanting blue eyes turned back towards where they were going, once again. “You watched me walk into her house on multiple occasions. It wasn’t comfortable there for me. But, in the end, I owe her a favor, and it’s currently still handcuffing me.”

A smirk edged up her lips. “Got you with your own rules, didn’t she.”

He looked at her again, his brow lifting, a twist to his lip. “Yes, as a point in fact, she did. No, I’ll not tell you her bargain with me beyond this - she bid that I ensure your safety should you ever cross that damn stream. Which, precious, you lived right up to her expectations with that.”

Still pissy about that, she noted. “I’d hate to disappoint,” she said, keeping her voice cool.

He barked out a laugh, shaking his head. He turned his head towards her, looking at her directly. When he spoke, there was a trace of dismayed admiration in his tone. “I doubt you’ve ever disappointed anyone. I certainly haven’t found a cause to complain.”

She looked at him, sharply, and he took a moment to look her up and down, making it clear that he was undressing her with his eyes. A flush rushed to her cheeks and she felt the heat gathering there. “You’re a wicked tease.”

He gave her an unrepentant smirk, and continued walking.

They continued walking late into the night, her lantern keeping their way illuminated when darkness had fallen. She followed after him, until her strength began to fail her again. She had a moment of distinct envy that Jareth seemed no more tired for the lack of rest, even with expending his energy and magic.

Keeping up with him was a struggle, and a failing task.

He’d been more than patient with her, and she knew he could probably maintain that ground eating pace of his for days without needing to pause to sleep, and had stopped along the way for her. But she was a mere human and she had to rest. She lifted a hand, reaching for the back of him and grabbed a handful of his cloak. In the pale light, she could see the edges of it were growing tattered from the journey.

Even he was looking rumpled from this journey, but it suited him, her tired brain told her. She’d like to rumple him a bit more.

 _Whoa, girl_ , she thought, and shoved that thought into the locked box with the rest of her thoughts like it. “Jareth -”

At his name, he turned, and a sigh escaped him as soon as he looked at her. Rather than temper in his gaze, she saw concern. He stepped towards her, his hands going under her elbows and she got a faint hint of that metallic scent.

Shit, he smelled good.

She swayed towards him, and admitted to herself it wasn’t just caused by her exhaustion. Whatever he saw in her eyes must have surprised him. She saw his own eyes widen just a bit, and his pupils swelled up. One of his hands lifted to her face, his eyes not pulling away from hers.

A quiet growl met her ears, from deep in his throat, and when he spoke, his voice had a hint of that sound. “Whatever you’re thinking you are far too exhausted for.”

The tease was uttered close to her ear, and his breath on her skin made her weak legs give out. She might have fallen, she thought, if he didn’t still have that gentle grip on her. One of his arms slipped around her waist and she heard a soft expletive from him.

“Sarah, are you alright?”

She suspected she’d feel a lot more alright if he would just put his damn lips on her. She managed to keep herself from saying that out loud.

“Just tired,” she answered, not wanting to make herself more vulnerable to him than she already had. Now was a terrible time for her libido to go into overtime, she chided herself.

“Do you need more of the stimulant?”

Remembering that made her jump back from him as if he’d burned her, and she stared at him, wide-eyed. His expression was trying for innocence but crashed and burned miles from it. The corner of his mouth was twitching, and she could see laughter in his eyes from her reaction.

“That is not nice,” she chastised.

He gave a half-shrug, eyes sparkling at her with mischief. “It would help you stay on your feet a bit longer.”

“It would help me up into the treetops.”

He laughed, fit to shame the devil. Still, the tease had been quite effective at startling her awake. He extended his hand towards her once again, still grinning. “Let’s continue. We’ll stop and you can rest in a little while. I promise.”

She looked at him, wary, but set her hand on his. “Why do you have that stuff, anyways?”

“Even something like me can grow weary, Sarah. This area of the Underground isn’t safe to stop in, and while coffee can be pleasant to drink, the potency of it leaves much to be desired. A dab of that can keep me going far longer than even I can go on my own strength.”

The wording he used caused extra curricular uses for that powder to flash through her mind and she felt heat rush to her cheeks again. She hoped it was dark enough he wouldn’t notice. She could remember too well how everything felt ten times stronger than usual, every contact more potent, from the stroke of his hand on her back to the brush of her own clothing. She eyed him, again, wary. “Doesn’t it make you feel like your heart is going to explode?”

He gave her a look of amusement. “No worse than you do when you do something foolish.”

She shook her head, sighing. “What is it?”

He shrugged. “Coca leaves, dried and distilled, then mixed with some talcum powder to cut it.”

Coca leaves. That was familiar, she knew that plant. She chased that thought for a long moment, then yelped when she realized what it was. “You gave me _cocaine_?!”

He looked at her when she stopped moving, a cross expression in his eyes. “Don’t be so twitchy about it, Sarah. I gave you just enough to keep you moving until it was safe to stop. The amount will cause you no lasting effects. Since I’m the one who has it, you’d have to go through me to get more, and I assure you, I’ve no intention of allowing you to become addicted to the stuff.”

She frowned at him, her face serious, letting him see that this upset her. “Don’t do that again, okay? You can’t just make me take something because you think you know what’s best.”

He paused, looking at her in surprise. His eyes searched hers for a long moment. He didn’t answer her for a moment, considering her serious. When he spoke, his voice was quiet. “I did ask you, this time, precious.”

Yes, he had, but what if she’d said yes, not knowing what the hell that stuff was. After a moment, she shook her head, stepping towards him. She set her hand on his arm, looking at his eyes. “I have my own feelings and opinions about things like that. If you have something that might help me, I want to know what it is before I risk it. Okay?”

He looked down at her hand on his arm, then up at her face. She could see his pupils dilate again, in the scant light when he looked at her. His gloved hand slipped over hers, and he lowered his eyes, giving a quiet sigh. “Alright.”

She gave a bit of a smile, and nodded her head, squeezing his hand. He squeezed back in answer.

It was quiet, peaceful, not a sound around them. She stepped towards him, resting her forehead against his shoulder. She didn’t examine why his acquiescence pleased her. This was enough for now. She felt his free hand lift, and it ran over her hair, down her back.

Then, it was like something had skittered over her nerves. Something was very wrong, she realized, and she went tense against him.

Even on the nights they’d been trampling through the forest, here, she’d heard other noises in the trees. The rustle of wind in the leaves, occasional whispers or giggles. The only time it ever went dead silent like this was when - 

She lifted her head, staring at Jareth, a sharp feeling of dread clawing at her stomach. She listened, hearing the sound of their breaths, and one that caused her anxiety to spike.

Restless hooves on soft ground.

She’d been distracted by Jareth, by their conversation, by his nearness. He must have been distracted, too. She started to turn, cautious, looking towards the treeline, and saw shapes moving through the trees towards them. Jareth’s hand on her arm tightened, and she took an unstead breath.

Dark, nightmarish shapes moved between the trees, towards them, headless riders on dark horses.

“Jareth,” she whispered.

His voice was just as quiet, close to her ear. “When I tell you to, Sarah, you run.”

She wanted to object, but when she looked up at him, his eyes were narrowed on the treeline. His hand rested against her back, thumb stroking along her spine.

Fear and adrenaline acted as an excellent stimulant, too, she noted, and she shuddered at the gentle caress. Still, she nodded her head, searching his face. “You’d better catch up, Goblin King.”

His eyes met hers and she saw his lips curved in amusement. “As if there was any doubt, precious.”

Those shapes moved from the trees towards them into the lantern light. She felt Jareth hook a finger through the loop and saw him lift it.

She stared at the Dullahan, getting her first real look at them before Jareth covered her eyes. Rotting heads under their arms, smiles that were too wide for their faces, splitting them from one side to the other. She swallowed hard, trying to keep from sicking up all over the man who held her.

Jareth turned her from them, and she watched as he opened the lanter, coaxing a bit of flame into the palm of his hand. It held on the glove like one of his crystals, and she lifted her eyes to look at his. The change in lightning made his face harsh and frightening. There was a feral, inhuman light to his eyes, one that had nothing to do with the fire. He held her gaze for a moment, and he looked at the monsters surrounding them.

He lifted that ball of fire, hurling it at one of them. He must have struck at least one, because screams from her nightmares filled the air. Jareth’s lips brushed her ear before he whispered to her.

“Run.”

Then he shoved her towards the treeline. The creatures were focused on him, enraged, and she felt a shiver of fear and worry for him, but she did as he’d told, running as fast as she could towards the treeline, ignoring what was going on behind her, for now. Her best bet would be to get away, and she knew it. 

Jareth would catch up. He’d said he would, he’d done it before.

She just had to trust that he would do it again.

She found a hollow under a massive fallen tree and went belly first under it, hiding as well as she could manage, hands curled into fists against her eyes as she hid, trying to not cry, again. He would be okay. He had to be. He had her pack, after all. And her lantern.

And he’d promised he’d help her.

She wasn’t certain how long she’d laid there, but she heard boots on fallen leaves near her. She slapped a hand over her mouth to keep from calling out. When a gloved hand thrust towards her under the tree, she almost squeaked in fear.

“Come on.”

Jareth’s voice.

She exhaled a heavy sigh of relief, taking his hand and climbing from beneath the tree she’d hidden under. Her lanter, she realized, was gone. The area was dark, too dark to see. But it had to be Jareth, because the light filtering through the canopy from the moon above them illuminated his starlight hair.

She felt herself shaking. “Those things are a nightmare and a half,” she said, trying to laugh and not cry. That hand still held hers.

“You’re alright?”

Weird question. Wasn’t he the one who had just fought off her nightmares, again? “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I think so.”

A flash of teeth, a smile. Then, she felt his heat against her chest. “I’d best check and make certain.”

Startled, she gripped his arms to hold him back, but his mouth crashed against hers, and regardless of her confusion, her brain shorted out.

Kissing him, she noted, felt really good. But this was wrong.

She curled her hands into his shirt, pushing him away from a moment, afraid. “Jareth?”

He didn’t answer, but when she felt his hands again, there were no gloves on them. His hands touched her skin directly, and the scent around him was musky. Panic started to spike inside of her.

That wasn’t how he smelled. Who the fuck was this and what the fuck was going on?!

But those hands had magic on their fingertips and one slipped up, stroking over her nipple through her bra. A gasp tore from her, and whatever was touching her kissed her again, tongue pressing between her lips. Those hands ripped her shirt open, and those lips left hers, lips and tongue tracing magic over her skin.

No, she didn’t want this.

Not like this.

Still, her body kissed the creature back, and all of her thoughts that she’d shoved in the locked trunk were bursting out and reminding her just how long it had been since any man had touched her like this. She shook her head, trying to break the kiss, tears filling her eyes.

Then, one of the creature’s thighs pressed between hers, shifted against her core. Panic bloomed, even as her body had already fallen under the spell of whatever was binding her.

No, she cried, trying to get her body to cooperate with her. _NO!_

Pain bloomed in her shoulder, and the creature stopped kissing her. The pain was something she could focus on, and she heard someone snarl. That snarl did more for her than the kisses of the bastard who was trying to spellbind her with sex. Her eyes lifted, and she saw Jareth behind the creature, his face illuminated by the lantern.

His expression was so far beyond rage that she didn’t have a word for it. She shivered, and the subtle movement drew his attention to her. She stared at him and his eyes met hers over the shoulder of the creature.

He was saving her again, she realized, wonder filling her.

Then, the pain in her shoulder spiked, and she looked down, seeing the knife she’d packed for her trip with her blood blooming around it.

Jareth had stabbed through whatever was kissing her, into her shoulder. Jareth had stabbed her.

He snarled again, at the creature, in words she couldn’t understand, and pressing the knife deeper into her, he stabbed it through the creature’s shoulder, leaving her pinned against the fallen tree with the blade. 

The pain cleared her mind, and she shivered, trying to come to grips with what had just happened. Something had tried to force her to have sex with it using Jareth’s face. She would have slumped to the ground if not for how he’d pinned her to the tree with her own knife.

As she watched, Jareth ripped the creature away from her, slamming it onto the ground. His teeth had faint points, she noted, wondering how she hadn’t noticed that before. She felt dazed, relief and fear warring inside of her.

A crystal formed in Jareth’s hand, the light in his eyes terrifying and beautiful.

Her body still ached from the touches she’d received, but she knew whatever she’d have gotten from the creature, it wouldn’t have ended well for her. And she hated that it had used her weakness for the Goblin King against her.

“Gancanagh,” Jareth snarled into the face of the creature, gloved hand tight on it’s throat. “You dare to use my face.”

It gave a laugh, no fear in it’s eyes. “She wants you. Of course I did. The others, stumbling through the night, trying to kill her outright. What easier way than sex to capture and enthrall?”

She felt sick, shaking her head. It knew, how the fuck could it know when she hadn’t said to anyone ever what she’d felt.

“Go ahead and kill me, Goblin King. But you can’t kill everything that’s after her, trying to save her. One of us will either kill her, or you. Something far worse than me is on it’s way.”

Jareth snarled in rage, and she watched as he shoved the crystal into the creature’s chest, and it started screaming in agony. Then, it exploded, blood and ichor bathing the area and the two remaining people in it. The Goblin King knelt there, looking darker, more frightening, and not even a little human, illuminated only by the light of the lantern. Then, he stood, stalking towards her.

“I thought I told you to be more damn careful!”

She trembled, staring up at him, held up only by the knife in her shoulder. Fear and arousal were twisted up inside her, both involving thoughts of the creature in front of her. She shivered, staring into his eyes as he got closer to her.

He looked her over, and with a sharp movement, ripped the blade from wood and shoulder.

She felt herself falling, sliding down the tree, unable to look away from him.

That thing had told him a secret she’d never dared voice aloud. How could it have known something like that? How long had it been watching her?

Worse, now that Jareth knew, would he use that against her?

Jareth dropped to his knees beside her. When he reached for her, she flinched, unable to control the motion.

His hand stilled, a fraction of an inch away from her, then fell to his side. “Is that blood?”

She lifted her hands, saw them covered in something thick and dark and sticky. Her body trembled and she looked down at her shoulder, then back at him. “You stabbed me.”

He didn’t respond to that any more than she’d answered his own question. “Sarah, I’m not referring to that.”

He lifted her blouse from her skin and she saw dark red covered her, staining the fabric.

She felt herself heave, and for a moment thought she was going to vomit. She wasn’t sure if it was from stress, relief, or because of the gore covering her.

“Is this blood?”

“No?” she answered, finally, her voice weak from shock.

“Sarah, that isn’t usually a question you answer with a question.” His voice was exasperated, worry clear in his tone. He sounded more like the man she’d been traveling with the last several days.

She laughed, hysterical, staring up at him. All she could feel right there was pain and fear, and sick. How had she been so easily spellbound? So easily tricked? How could she let something like that touch her like that?

Jareth’s touch on her cheek made her realize a tear had fallen down her face. “What...was that?”

He sighed, looking back at what remained of the creature.

“I think in your world, they’re called an incubus, here, they’re called gancanagh. Same theory, they take on a trusted face and use it to seduce mortal women.” He didn’t comment on the fact that it had used his own face to seduce her and that it had been working. She wasn’t certain what to make of that.

“It looked like you?”

He looked at her, his expression hard for a moment, and she could see he still hadn’t lost all of his temper behind. She wasn’t certain if the temper was aimed at her or himself. “Yes.”

She felt tears welling in her eyes, and she pressed the ball of her hands against them, trying to keep them back. “I don’t want to stay here, near it. I feel like I’m going to be sick.”

His hand drifted towards her shoulder. He hadn’t apologized for the wound, she didn’t really expect him to, right then. His fingers lifted towards it, brushing over the edge of her torn shirt. He looked into her eyes a moment later, then grabbed her by her other arm, hauling her to her feet. “It’s not bleeding badly. I’ll heal it once your head has cleared some more. Let’s get out of here.”

She winced in pain, putting her hand to her shoulder. “Is this a punishment?”

His jaw clenched, and she watched the muscle in it flex. Definitely Jareth, her brain told her, and she clung to the familiar mannerism as a way of recognizing him.

“I haven’t decided, yet,” he answered.


	9. Chapter 9

“We’re stopping.”

They’d walked for quite some time after the last attack with her shoulder still throbbing and oozing blood. When he said that, she breathed a sigh of relief that he’d decided that it was time to stop. The blood loss was catching up with her, too. She felt dizzy and light-headed. She wasn’t certain how much of that was from the exhaustion and how much was from the blood loss, but neither was her idea of a good time.

If she hadn’t known what that powder was, she might be tempted to ask him for another dab of it.

The fact that he’d dosed her with cocaine still bothered her a bit. It bothered her lot more than a bit that he’d stabbed through her attacker and hit her. It bothered her more that he seemed to have a complete lack of remorse for hitting her in the process of saving her.

She still wasn’t certain how much of his temper was aimed at her, from the situation. She’d known he’d been furious, the look in his eyes when he stalked towards her had chilled her. He’d never looked at anyone who wasn’t an enemy like that. Did that mean he now looked at her like that? How much of that was from fear and how much was from him coming up on her making out with something when he’d just put himself in danger to protect her?

Even now, as Sarah sat in front of him by the fire he’d started while she was lost in her thoughts, she saw a complete lack of emotion in his eyes. She couldn’t tell if he’d sanitized his own feelings, or if he was so deep in his fury that she couldn’t fathom the depths of it any longer.

The only thing that would pull that knowledge out of him would be jabbing at him verbally and she knew it. She just wasn’t certain if she’d developed the guts to poke at him when he’d been so furious with her.

“Is your head clear?” The question was too vague for her to understand how he meant. Her mind was in chaos, she was afraid to piss him off more, she was pissed because he had locked down so hard she couldn’t get anything out of him.

She sighed, not looking at him. “What does that even mean?”

When she looked at him, she saw him frowning at her. He lifted his hands to the torn edges of her still tattered shirt and flexed, ripping the remains of it off of her. She’d have mourned it, but she suspected that the shirt was already well past ruined. She reached for the pack and he slapped her hand, barely enough to feel, but it stung her heart more than her skin anyways.

“What I mean, you precious little idiot,” he growled the words out and she swallowed hard at that tone. “Has the remains of the damn spell he was wrapping around you gone. You’ve been too quiet, and it’s grating on me.”

She looked him in the eyes, her own narrowing at him. “Oh, you’d rather I nattered on? You were so pissed off that you left me bleeding and wounded - a wound you inflicted, I might remind you - rather than attempt to heal me. You wouldn’t even be clear if you weren’t healing it because you were pissed off.”

“I’d rather know -” he stopped himself before he finished asking, his eyes sliding away from her. The question died on the air between them. There was something in his eyes that wasn’t quite temper, was softer and more fragile.

He shook himself, his lashes veiling his eyes from her.

As she watched, he lifted a crystal over her shoulder, and he seemed to squeeze it like a sponge. Clear water trickled over her skin, clearing her blood and the gore from the wound. Once it was clean, his gloved fingers prodded at it, a brief touch, but it made her shudder.

She wasn’t certain if that shudder was from fear or because from his wrist, she could smell _him_. Ozone, sharp and metallic and clean, and it helped distract her from the fear she’d felt earlier. He smelled like himself, so it was him, her mind reminded her, half-senseless.

He paused for a moment, his hand coming away. “Did I hurt you?”

She lifted her eyes to him, looking at him in the eye. Then, she turned her gaze to her shoulder, then looked at him from the corner of her eyes. “Are you being serious, right now? Did you hurt me?”

Still no remorse in his blue eyes. Not even a little. Instead, his lips curled in a snarl, and he pulled his glove off. “Don’t be childish, Sarah. I didn’t hit anything vital, not even nicked a vein. It was to shock you, not harm.”

“Still hurt.” She scoffed, frustrated with him. “Do you feel even a little guilty? Like at all?”

He looked at her and there was a hard edge in his eyes. When he spoke, his voice was cold enough to burn. “I don’t have time to feel guilty. Frankly, precious, neither do you.”

She swallowed hard, seeing the temper in his eyes. He glared at her for a moment longer, then his eyes focused on the injury. His soft, bare fingertips brushed over where the knife had gone through her shoulder. A familiar numbness swept over her shoulder, and she looked down and saw the fresh red of a recent healing.

“I’m not human, Sarah. I never was. But you keep expecting me to behave like I am. Now, I realize you’re upset with me, but we’re going to need to work together if you’re going to get through this.” He shook his head, his exhaled breath brushing across her bare skin. “I’ve been as honest with you as one of my kind would ever be able to be.”

She bit her lower lip, digging deep for some kind of fight. She wasn’t certain how to explain the multitude of layers to her own feelings right then. “This is more than ‘upset’, Jareth. I trusted you, and you betrayed that trust. How can I work with you knowing that you can just stab me without remorse?”

He scoffed, getting to his feet. “Oh, please. I stabbed you one time in the shoulder and you lived.”

“And if I hadn’t?” She got to her feet, looking him in the eyes. His own weren’t anywhere close to her face and she realized with a start that his eyes were running over her bare skin. She reached forward, gripping his wrist, looking him in the eye. “And what if I hadn’t? What if you had hit something vital, and because you were pissed off, you let me go into shock from losing blood? What then?”

He was quiet for a long moment, still not looking at her face. His bare hand lifted, fingers wandering over her collarbone to the dip in the middle. He wasn’t even looking at where he’d stabbed her, now, and the look on his face made her throat go dry. When he spoke, his voice was low and pensive. “Then I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”

The words were so quiet, she couldn’t be certain that she’d heard them. That murmur wrapped itself around her heart and squeezed so hard it hurt. She stared at him, eyes wide in shock, her breath hitching in her chest.

Then, his eyes snapped to hers, temper in them again, as if his brain had caught up with his mouth and he was pissed because he’d let something like that slip.

“Besides. Stabbing you was for your own good. I didn’t have the time to break the spellbinding when I was tangling with the damn gancanagh. But pain works just as well for snapping someone out of one.”

She shook her head, wondering why he’d go and say something to ruin what he’d said before, and wondered if he was trying to push her away. Then, the breeze tickled against her skin and she felt blood rush to her cheeks. She was still standing there, almost half-naked in front of him. Now that his eyes were locked with hers, she remembered. When he’d been letting them wander, when he’d looked as spell bound by her as she was by him, she’d forgotten why she should care. “Give me my damn pack.”

He handed it to her, and turned away while she pulled it open. Finding one of her plastic bags of clothes, she pulled out a fresh set, replacing her destroyed shirt and bloodied jeans. Putting clean clothes on a dirty body wasn’t as good as onto a clean one, but she didn’t want to risk taking a bath until she was back home and was certain the water she was climbing into was safe.

Her brain, the unhelpful bastard, continued turning the first words he’d said over and over again. She couldn’t understand what he’d meant. Not being able to live with himself if he’d killed her was an awfully strong statement.

Her pants were up to her waist and she was slipping the button through the hole when she caught up with what he had said without saying the words right then. She turned towards him, staring at him through wide eyes.

He was looking at the treeline, his expression hard as it had been when he’d first looked at her after he’d caught up with her.

“Jareth,” she said, uncertain if asking him this would be a good idea. “When you said you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if I died, what did you mean?”

Her wording caught up with her a second late, after he had whirled on her, his expression furious once again. He’d started towards her, every movement in his body screaming aggression. Her stomach flipped and heart dropped and the two seemed to collide against each other. She lifted her hands, backing into a tree as she moved away from him. “I wasn’t trying to make you answer. Don’t say anything if you don’t want to, Jareth.”

He stood right in front of her, his jaw tight, that muscle that had told her it was him, earlier, standing prominent. She could hear the quiet snarl in his throat, and her heart skipped several beats before it started drumming away again at a much quicker pace. His hand came to rest next to her head against the tree, nothing but his enraged expression in her line of vision.

“Are you certain, _precious_?”

She didn’t like the way he’d said that, right then. The word that often sounded like an endearment spat out of his mouth like it was acid on his tongue. Like he wanted to spit on her more than anything for the way she’d almost forced him to answer something so personal.

Her lifted hands came to rest against his chest and she shook her head, taking a steadying breath. “Jareth, I’m sure. Please don’t answer if you don’t want to.”

His eyes narrowed at her, those angry blue eyes so close and so dazzling. When he spoke, that growl in his chest rumbled against hers. “I don’t know if I want to toss you into the Bog of Stench or if I want to kiss you right now.”

Her heart did something disgraceful that she suspected was a flutter and she swallowed hard. Wrapping sass around herself, she looked him in the eye. “Do I get a vote?”

He bared his teeth at her in a mean-tempered smile, and she saw his eyes drift from hers down to her mouth, then back. Something in his eyes was dark and hungry, and there was still that edge of temper in them, but when he spoke again, his voice was softer, the growl gentled.

“Don’t try to get into my head again, precious. It’s too dark for you.”

“Stop trying to scare me off,” she snarled at him, grabbing the collar of his shirt when he started to back away.

Surprise flashed into his eyes and he scoffed. “Trying? Precious, you’ve reeked of fear since I saved you from the gancanagh.”

She wasn’t going to answer that. No, she wasn’t. But she should show him that she wasn’t scared of him, regardless.

Using her hold on his shirt, she shifted them so his back was the one against the tree, looking him in the eyes. Still that surprise there, with some curiosity. She was manhandling a king. He wasn’t stopping her from it, either, wasn’t even trying to. Once his back was against the tree, she pulled him down, pressing her lips against his hard.

He seemed to freeze, and then he hauled her closer against him, his tongue pressing between her lips and kissing her back just as hard. She heard a quiet sound leave him that was somewhere between a groan and a snarl, and one of his hands stroked up her back, firm and slow.

Oh, he tasted like magic and dreams and delights she’d never even dared to dream about. And nothing at all like the incubus that had tried to seduce her using his face. That was a relief. 

Her hands left his collar, slipped into his hair and he found her waist, buttery leather slipping along the edge of her shirt as it lifted over the waist of her pants.

Then, his hands tightened on her waist, pushing her away to glare at her for a moment, his expression dark with temper. “What are you doing?”

“Shit,” she blurted, trying to pull him back to her so she could sup on her dreams further. “Must be worse than I thought if you can’t figure it out.”

He resisted, holding himself away from her. “Sarah -”

She shook her head, biting her lip, not wanting to give him a proper answer, right now. “Do you seriously not fucking get it, yet? You couldn’t figure it out when you saw that thing made itself look like _you_. It got into my head and pulled out the one person I trusted more than anyone. The one person I _wanted_ more than anyone, and you don’t _fucking_ -”

His expression changed as she ranted. First, annoyed, then, his eyes widened in surprise, and something fragile shone in them. His lips crashed on hers and he lifted her just enough that her feet didn’t quite touch the ground. Restless hands pushed her shirt up a little further, and his tongue pressed between her lips, exploring the corners of her mouth. The taste of him flooded her mouth and every single neuron in her brain shorted out at once.

She gave him the quietest pleading moan, her hand sliding from his hair to rest on his cheek as his lips slanted against hers. Every time they parted, she sucked in a sharp breath, smelling and tasting him. Lifting a leg, she wrapped it around his, trying to hold him closer, still.

A moan that was just as desperate as she felt escaped him and he shifted, put her back against the tree. His hips rolled against hers and she felt exactly how pleased he was to be kissing her right then and another moan escaped her. His lips moved from hers, kissed over her cheek to just below her ear where her jaw met her neck. Then, his teeth grazed her skin and she twitched, arching against him with a whimper.

His still bare hand slipped up her shirt, cupping her breast, his touch firm, not asking. Hell, he was demanding and she didn’t care. She pressed into the touch of his hand, slipping her own hands down the back of his shirt, digging her fingernails into the skin she found.

He rewarded her with a delighted hiss against her lips.

A howl went up through the air, a sound she remembered from that first night there, which had kept her up the whole evening. A shiver worked its way through her and the kiss broke as they both drew back, eyes meeting. His eyes were thin blue rings around the endless abyss of his pupils.

But she could see that he’d recognized the sound as well.

“Pooka,” he rasped, and his brow furrowed. She watched him lift a hand, as though trying to 

create a crystal, and saw it looked thin and brittle. Her knees went weak, and he looked at her for a long moment. His eyes were frightened and desperate. “They won’t find you.”

The promise scared her to the bone. But he wasn’t giving her a chance to ask what the fuck he meant by that. He snatched up her bag, getting it settled on her shoulders. Then, he set that brittle crystal in her hand. “Don’t drop that, Sarah. No matter what you see or hear, don’t you dare drop it.”

He was going to send her away again, she realized, and she shook her head. Then, as she stared at him, he seemed to ripple, and his appearance changed. Looking at him looking like her was a strange feeling, especially since she wasn’t looking at a mirror. Understanding what he was doing, she shook her head, her breath leaving her in a rush.

“Jareth, no.”

“I can’t fight them, right now. Even being careful, rationing my power, I’m out of steam. This is what I can do.” His voice sounded like hers, too and she swallowed, shaking her head. When he smiled, however, she saw him in her own smile. “Run, precious. Run, and don’t look back.”

She obeyed, because she couldn’t stop herself from obeying. She realized he’d spellbound her during that moment their eyes had been locked. But she struggled, even as she moved away from him, and when the spell was weak enough, or her heart was breaking enough, she was able to force herself to hide behind a tree, covering her mouth with one hand, shaking her head.

She couldn’t go back, the spell had that much of a grip on her. He’d forced her to sacrifice him. Tears filled her eyes, and she stifled her sobs so that she wouldn’t be heard.

No.

Snarls filled the clearing she’d left behind, the clearing he’d kissed her senseless in. Then, after a brief silence, there was a groan of pain that sounded too much like him and she felt her tears falling down her face, her head shaking in denial. Her empty hand covered her mouth, and she stared at the crystal in her hand, her mind screaming in objection.

_No!_


	10. Chapter 10

Sarah couldn’t have said how long she sat there, crying. Her mind was too busy telling her that this was not fair. If she’d just listened to him, let him take her home, this would have never happened. If she’d done that -

She’d have never had the chance to kiss him, to smell and taste him. She’d never have told him that she wanted him. She’d have never felt the proof that he wanted her, too. She’d have just left and never gotten to see him again.

Her chest heaved with the force of her sobs, and she fought against the spellbinding. She didn’t want to be here, she wanted to be with him. She wanted to go to him. She wanted to protect him like he’d been protecting her.

This time, when she tried to turn, she was able to look back around the tree trunk she’d hidden behind. Whatever power he’d had to spell bind her had broken, now.

The snarls and growls were gone. The pooka were gone from the area she’d left Jareth, but she could hear a faint sound of pain from there. She kept low, crawling towards him, hoping that he wasn’t gone. She kept her hand on that smooth sphere, refusing to let it go, as if it had the power to keep him with her.

Please, _please_ , let him be okay.

When she reached the clearing, she found him lying in the grass, so silent, so still, and looking like her. He’d turned their gaze from her, she knew, let them think they’d caught their quarry, sacrificed himself for her. She wanted to strangle him for it.

When she reached his side, she reached out and brushed her fingers over his cheek.

The glamor he’d used fell away, and she saw he looked very weak. His eyes were glazed with pain when they found hers. His breaths rattled in his chest, but he was breathing. He looked paler than usual, that luminescence under his skin gone, leaving him looking almost gray.

“Sarah, you need to go,” he rasped, his voice quiet and resigned.

As if he could make her do it, right now. She shook her head, tears spilling down her face. “No.”

He sighed, his expression trying for stern and failing at it. “Sarah -”

She shook her head again, feeling her infamous stubbornness rising in her. She knew he saw it before she spoke, because his expression softened, the resignation overwhelming it. “I’ve done what you said every other time. I let you stay behind because you asked it of me. And this time, you got hurt, you got hurt, so I’m not leaving you behind again. I…”

His eyes met hers and she touched his face, her breath shuddering out of her and she felt a sob welling inside of her chest. He didn’t even seem to have enough strength to reach back for her. “Sarah -”

“I couldn’t live with myself,” she whispered, watching his eyes widen in surprise when she used his own words on him. She pressed her hand flat against his cheek and leaned close, kissing him on the mouth, wishing she could give him a fraction of her own strength, so he could be alright.

His breath sighed from him, and she felt her panic spike. She withdrew, finding his eyes closed and she shook her head, scrambling for a pulse, finding one beating, weak and erratic, in his chest. She wiped her tears from her face, and bit her lower lip. She had to get him away from here, when those things figured out his trick, they’d be after them, again. Taking a deep breath, she shifted, so she could get his arms pulled around her shoulders, knowing that the backpack wouldn’t be comfortable, but she couldn’t afford to leave it behind, either.

He was, apparently, alert enough to voice another objection. “Sarah, while admirable, your stubbornness cannot save me.”

She paused, closing her eyes, trying to control her temper. “Shut up, Jareth. Just this once, listen to me and shut up.”

He went quiet, and she squeezed his hands, groaning as she got to her feet. She’d pat him down and find the damn cocaine later. She’d use it as she needed so she could get them both through this. But she wasn’t going to abandon him.

She couldn’t. She wasn’t exaggerating that she couldn’t live with herself if she just left him there to die to save herself.

The detox would suck, but if it got her through this, she could fucking ignore what she was doing, for now. Getting them both somewhere safe first was her first priority.

Within an hour, she understood why Jareth had said her silence was grating.

_I don’t have time to feel guilty. Frankly, precious, neither do you._

She felt guilty. She’d rather he was sniping and angry at her, than this silence, because at least that would mean he was energetic enough to challenge her. Still, as she carried him along, ignoring her own exhaustion, she could feel the beat of his heart at her grip on his wrists. She used that sensation and the knowledge that came with it to keep herself moving.

She was staggering with weariness by the time she found a safe place to stop for the night. Getting him onto her back wasn’t as hard as getting him off of it, but she managed, resting him against the ground while she dug for her sleeping bag. Once she’d covered him, she patted him down, finding the small pouch of cocaine. She dabbed a fingertip of powder against her gum line, rubbing it in until she felt the buzz. It didn’t hit as hard as when Jareth had forced her to sniff it or she was too exhausted to feel more than she did.

Everything was harder, now. She had to do everything with mortal hands and mortal energy. The second was almost tapped out even with the artificial aid. Still, when she’d checked the map, she could see they weren’t too far from the point they’d been headed towards.

A relieved sigh escaped her. At least she’d kept them on track.

She managed to set up a small fire, using her lamp to get a bit of kindling going before she doused it for the night, packing it away again.

Jareth had been still and silent for some time, and she hoped that he would hold on. She hadn’t been joking. It wasn’t fair that he did things like this, hurt her, protected her, fought with her, and when she finally had the nerve to kiss the bastard, he goes and almost dies. How could he expect her to live with herself if he did die, trying to protect her?

Why would that idiot go so far? Just because of his bargain with her grandmother? She snorted, her temper short, half wanting him to wake up so she could really lay into him with it.

Before she’d settled herself, she coaxed him to drink some of the safe water he’d provided earlier. Now, sitting near the fire, she kept her bag close to one side, the Goblin King passive and sleeping with his head in her lap. Her fingers had been restless, toying with his hair for some time now. He was pale, even for him. Much paler than when she’d first picked him up, which worried her.

She considered rubbing some of the cocaine under his nose. She wasn’t sure if that was to punish him for scaring her or to get him back on his feet. If she knew for sure it wouldn’t result in him getting hurt, she might have, but she couldn’t be sure, and she didn’t have a way to find out, right then.

While she sat there, she took stock of her remaining food. She gave a heavy exhalation. Besides the dry rice, she had the remaining heal from her bread, a piece of beef jerky, and some trail mix. She took the last of the beef jerky, tearing it in half and eating one side of it, packing the rest away. She’d have to ration her food out better. She couldn’t travel as fast, so she needed to make the food last. Otherwise, she’d find herself relying on Jareth to provide her with safe food.

Assuming he woke up.

She immediately shook that thought out of herself, refusing to even consider that he might not. As if she could keep him with her through sheer force of will alone.

A shuffling sound drew her attention, and she grabbed the handle of her knife, ready to use it to defend herself and Jareth if she had to. Her eyes went to the trees, and she saw something pale, emaciated, and frail looking moving towards her camp. It seemed to feel her eyes, because it looked right at her.

As it drew closer, she winced in sympathy, able to count each rib that stuck out from its form. Its stomach was concave, empty. It looked like a skeleton wrapped in skin. For a moment, she worried it was one of the undead, but the shamble didn’t quite seem right, and she saw intelligence in it’s eyes. It was too thin for her to tell if it had a gender, its skin taught across it’s bones.

“You are very far from home.”

Its voice was rough, weak, but it stopped on the opposite side of the fire.

“I am,” she agreed, tired. She set the knife down, gesturing towards the fire. “Have a seat, if you want.”

The creature’s eyes moved over Jareth, then back to her. Something in its eyes was impossible to identify. It then looked at the food in her hands. "May I have some food?"

Awareness hit her, and she remembered her grandmother's words for a moment.

_Fear Gorta, child, is a faerie creature that comes above during a blight or famine. It's usually a human who died from starving. If it asks for food, be sure to share what you have._

She couldn't remember why sharing with it was important, but she didn't think that mattered, right then. She gave it a tired smile, nodding her head. "I don't have much left, but you're welcome to what I have."

It might cost her what was left of her safe food, but right then, she didn’t care. So she dug out her bread and what was left of the beef jerky, the bag of trail mix, holding them out to it. "I've already had some, so feel free to have what's left. Dunno if you like trail mix. It's got chocolate and nuts and some dried fruit in it."

"Thank you," it said, and she thought it was drooling. It tore open what was left of the bread, eating it as though it were a delicious meal and the creature was ravenous. It ripped through the jerky, and started on the bag of trail mix. When that was gone, it looked at her for a time without saying anything. As if it were sizing her up.

"Is he still alive?" It finally asked the question, and she felt like she’d been stabbed.

She bit her lip, looking at the face of the king in her lap. Then, she gave the Fear Gorta a pained smile. "Just barely."

The creature looked at her and the Goblin king for a long time, then it stood. "You are kind, miss. I'm a stranger and you shared your meal with me when you didn't have to."

She gave a pained smile, her fingers stroking the king’s hair. “Am I? Because I forced him to help me, he got hurt. That’s not a kindness.”

“You carried him here, to safety. That is a kindness. You gave me food, without expectation. That is also a kindness.” It looked from her to the king again, and smiled. “Kindness is rewarded. Thank you.” 

Then, it turned its back and walked away from her, disappearing between the trees.

She watched it go, worrying her lower lip. She didn’t feel like a kind person. She felt like she’d led Jareth into an impossible situation, and like he’d die because she’d refused to let him take her home. How did one deal with that sort of guilt without falling apart?

She wasn’t sure how long she’d sat there, thinking and overthinking, before the man in her lap gave a groan, and she blinked, eyes dropping to his face.

His face was scrunched in pain and he shifted towards her, face turning towards her stomach. He half rolled onto his side, and she felt his gloved hand curled at her back, in her t-shirt. Her breath hitched and she thought she was going to cry for a moment. Then, his blue eyes, dazed and tired, opened and peered up at her.

She swallowed the sob in her throat, her fingers brushing the hair from his face. A smile that she knew looked pained curved her lips and she stroked his cheek. “You’re awake.”

He took a deep breath, looking at her, confused. “I died. I was dead.”

He sounded perplexed, too.

She shook her head, giving a laugh that felt more like a sob. “Well, it didn’t stick.”

He shifted, and looked at her. His eyes held a familiar temper, so she looked away from him, her fingers returning to his blood soaked, starlight hair. Swallowing another sob that tried to escape, she closed her eyes, feeling tears fall down her cheeks, again.

“You’re crying.” His voice held none of the temper his eyes did. Fingers brushed her cheeks along the path her tears had taken. “Why?

She forced her eyes open, biting her lip hard and looking down into his eyes. “Because you scared the hell out of me, you damn idiot.”

An eternity could have passed while he held her eyes. Then, he sat up, his movements slow and careful, but he didn’t groan in pain when he did. She could see in the firelight that he was glowing, illuminated under the skin once again. His pallor had improved. She reached towards him, remembering where each torn place had been, fingers brushing over them, patting him down for any unhealed areas.

“You were going to sacrifice yourself to save me,” she whispered, and she was angry about it. She could hear her own temper in her voice.

He scoffed. “A slip of a girl like you?”

She bit her lip, refusing to take his bait. Instead, she snapped the next words at him. “Who asked you to do that?!”

He inclined his head, grabbing her hands, holding them still, and lifting a brow. “And I told you to run away and not come back. Instead, you came back straight away and carried me all this way. Who asked you to do that?”

His words weren’t snapped, they were quiet and pensive as the look on his face.

She shook her head, getting to her feet and pacing away from him. The insufferable prick. Didn’t he understand how he made her feel? She had taken no more than a step when his hand wrapped around her wrist, stopping her. She didn’t turn to look at him, her chest heaving, tears still cutting down her face.

“You seriously think I could just leave you there like that?”

“It’s what you should have done.” His voice sounded raw, but she wasn’t sure what was making it sound like that. She turned towards him, seeing that fragile thing in his eyes, again. That thing she’d felt when she’d seen him lying there on the ground, wounded.

“You keep putting yourself at risk to protect me. I don’t care what bargain Grandmammy Rhi made with you. You don’t get to do things like that.”

He inclined his head, stepping towards her, his hand still around her wrist. “I don’t get to do things like what, exactly, precious?”

She stared up into his eyes, tears still on her face. “You don’t get to die to protect me. I don’t want that.”

“Why not?” He inclined his head, searching her eyes for a long moment, his own nearly glittering in the dim light from the fire. 

She shook her head, another sob escaping her as she exhaled. She was shaking, her eyes hurt from crying too much for him, and now he was acting like it was his right, his duty to die protecting her. 

“You stubborn asshole, you know why.”

His movement towards her was slow, his hand slipping down from her wrist as his fingers laced with hers. He was standing so close to her, she could feel his breath whisper across her face with his words. “Tell me, regardless. Why am I not allowed to make a choice like that?”

She stared up at him, her breath shuddering out of her as she met his eyes. That terrible, fragile thing in his eyes was burning brighter, now. Stronger. 

Hope. It was hope. 

Seeing his fed the fire of her own and she stepped towards him. “Why don’t you tell me why you feel the need to do something like that for me? To sacrifice yourself to save me. I know my grandmother well enough to know she’d never make a demand like that from anyone.”

He met her gaze, and a ghost of a smile turned up his lips. His hand lifted and cupped her face. She leaned into the touch, biting her lower lip. His thumb came forward, tugging her lower lip free of her teeth, and then swept up her cheek. When he spoke, his voice was wistful, soft.

“You know why.”

They stared at each other for a long moment, like that, standing a breath apart, their only contact was his hand on her face. Then, her breath was wrung out of her and she caught him behind his neck, dragging him close and kissing him with violent passion. She felt his arm snatch her closer, and he was returning that kiss just as furious as her.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This Chapter Contains Nothing But Smut

They stared at each other for a long moment, like that, standing a breath apart, their only contact was his hand on her face. Then, her breath was wrung out of her and she caught him behind his neck, dragging him close and kissing him with violent passion. She felt his arm snatch her closer, and he was returning that kiss just as furious as hers.

Jareth’s hand at her back slid down until she felt that butter soft leather just above the waist of her pants. She felt as it slipped up the back of her shirt, a trail of warmth along her spine. The touch was soft, almost too soft, but his lips against hers didn’t allow her to dwell on it or complain. His tongue pressed between her lips, tasting her and she brought her tongue to meet his.

She remembered, again, that he tasted like everything she’d ever wanted, and she ran her hands down his vest, finding the buttons that fastened the front. She’d have ripped it if she thought she could have done something other than embarrass herself trying. Instead, she slipped one each through the loop until she could shove it out of her way, feeling the heat of his body much more without it in her way.

He didn’t even back away from her as he dropped his arms long enough to toss it behind him. Then, a moment later, she felt his hands on her.

No gloves, she realized, and his touch was electric as when he’d healed her. His hands had found her cheeks, holding her close, not letting her draw a full breath between kisses. His lips were always seeking hers, as if he didn’t need air at all, just more of this, and more of her.

She could sympathize, she felt the same way about him.

His hands moved to her hair, pulling it from the band that held it back, until it fell around her shoulders and she drew back enough to look at him, searching his eyes for a long moment. His eyes flicked to her lips again, and when he drew her close this time, his movements were slower, more deliberate, as if giving her a chance to think, change her mind.

She hooked one of her hands in the waist of his pants, trying to encourage him to come closer still when he finally kissed her, his lip caressing hers, drawing back and sliding over her chin, to the dip in her collar. She remembered earlier when his fingers had ghosted across that spot after he healed her and she shivered. She slipped her hands through his hair, wrapping her arms around him, hugging his head against her.

He was slipping lower, still, and his hands ran over her curves, coaxing her down to the ground with him, til she straddled his thighs. When she came to rest against him, his hands slipped up her back again, lifting her shirt, and between one kiss and the next, he’d removed it, tossing it near where his vest had landed.

He didn’t come in right away for the next kiss, his eyes wandering over her bare skin, his expression no longer tense or shielded from her. Hunger and hope in his dazzling eyes. His arms slid up her back, coaxing her chest closer to him as he kissed her again, deep, drugging kisses that left her dizzy and drunk. She gave a quiet whimper, rolling her hips towards him, wanting more of that, more of his skin, more of his kisses, more of him.

His lips left hers again, and she bared her neck to him, a soft moan leaving her at the caress of his kiss along her throat. 

“Please,” she begged, the sound almost swallowed by the crack of the fire near them. 

His hands slipped behind her again, and her bra loosened, slipping down her shoulders between them. He didn’t try to remove it, his hand slipping around, finding her breast beneath the scrap of lace and the sound that left him vibrated against her skin.

Not quite a growl, not quite a moan, but she thought he sounded like he was getting drunk off of her as she was off of him. Lifting her head, she looked at him, panting for breath, fingertips wandering along his jaw. When he looked up at her, she leaned down, kissing him again, her fingers tracing along his jawline. He caught her lower lip between careful teeth as she drew back again. His eyes flicked up to hers and she saw the pupils so swollen his blue eyes looked almost black in the light.

Then, he moved, one arm around her back and he brought her to lay on the sleeping bag. She shifted, looking up at him, eyes wide for a moment. Still, without hesitation she reached for him, trying to bring him to her. 

He didn’t. Instead, she felt his hands at the small of her back and in a slow, steady movement, he drew her pants over her backside and down her legs.

She felt a blush heat her cheeks as he looked at her, that hungry look silencing her, stilling her. She wanted him to look, she realized, and she swallowed hard. How he looked at her was killing her. Then, those hooded eyes met hers again before he leaned down, pressing an open kiss over her heart. She arched into his mouth, head digging back into the soft ground.

She felt his starlight hair under her fingers as his kiss swept over her breast, and she covered her mouth to stifle the pleased gasp that left her. His lips closed around over her peak, and she felt the scrape of his teeth as he drew back, before he gave her other breast the same attention. 

Not fair. He was still wearing too much clothing, and he was making her lose her head.

She grabbed for his shirt, but he took her hands, holding them to her sides as he brushed another open mouthed kiss over her ribs, and another over her stomach.

“Sarah,” he breathed her name against her skin, thumbs hooking in the waist of her underwear and drawing them down, next. His next kiss landed at her hip, and she bit her lip, one hand curling in his hair and the other in the sleeping bag beside her.

“Please,” she answered, wanting and trying to watch him, but every kiss and every touch had her eyes falling closed over and over. Then, she heard a hungry sound from him and his lips wrapped around her clit, gentle and teasing.

The next sound he made was definitely a growl, hungry and deep in his chest. She sputtered as that sound vibrated up through her, arching her hips against his mouth. His fingers brushed against her, and she managed to just smother the cry as he slid them inside of her.

One of his hands had come to rest low on her stomach, and she felt the fingers inside of her curling and teasing her while his tongue danced over her clit. Her hand clamped over her mouth and she bucked against him. From here, her eyes could see the stars above them through the canopy of trees above them. Her legs trembled but she still tried to pull him closer with one, her brow furrowed from trying to keep from crying out in her desperation.

Another finger brushed against her and then she felt him spread her more. Her teeth latched onto her finger, trying to keep from making too much noise.

Stars were dancing in her vision, his tongue was sliding against her and he kept making those quiet, rough sounds against her, as if he couldn’t get enough of her taste. Every brush of his tongue against her, every curl of his fingers inside of her, and she could feel the pleasure pooling in her stomach, hot and heavy and she shuddered.

“Jareth,” she begged, trying to tell him something she couldn’t form into words, and he did something unspeakably wonderful and all that pleasure condensed and she arched into his mouth, gasping and shuddering and unable to contain the cry of pleasure that left her. Then, he did it again and again until what she thought was her coming turned out to just be a prelude to it and the stars she was watching seemed to spin over her head.

 _He moved the stars_ , she thought, dazed. The thought was ridiculous, and if she hadn’t been half-delirious from pleasure, she might have scoffed at herself. 

She’d closed her eyes at some point and when she dragged them open, she saw him leaning over her, looking smug and pleased with himself. And still very dressed. That wouldn’t do. She lifted trembling hands, gripping his shirt and pulling it from his pants. 

He seemed to realize what she was trying to do, because he helped her. When she had a good hold on them, he shifted, using her hold on the shirt to remove it, lifting those hooded eyes to look at her once it was out of her way. 

She reached for him, drawing him close for another kiss, tasting herself on him. Her fingers wandered over his skin, and she heard his quiet moan as his skin came to rest against hers. She lifted her arms up around him, and felt him resting heavy against her hip, his cock hard in his trousers. Hungry, her fingers ran down his back, slipping just under the waist of those pants, gripping the flesh of his ass and pressing up towards him.

He lifted his head, his eyes shining as he looked at her, a rough laugh leaving him. She wasn’t certain she liked that he was laughing, but he was so damn beautiful she forgave him for it. Besides, he looked just as hungry as she felt.

She hooked her arm up around his neck, shifted her center of gravity, and rolled him beneath her. The surprise in his eyes was gratifying, and she gave him her own smug little grin. Then she leaned down and gave him a long, drugging kiss of her own, her fingers finding his wrists, finding his pulse in it. The steady feel of his blood pulsing gave her something to focus on.

Strong, not weak and thready as it had been. He was okay, he was going to be okay. 

She lifted her head, looking at him, searching his eyes for a moment as she drew back from the kiss. When his eyes opened, she saw everything she would ever need to know about how he felt about her. She traced her fingers over his face, pressing an open kiss on his throat as he’d done to her own.

Her king arched towards her, baring his throat as she’d done. She let her lips wander over to his pulse, tasting the proof of his life, and lifting her head to look at him, again.

His eyes were burning with warning that she was about to push him past the point of control with her teasing. She couldn’t help herself. His hand slipped behind her neck, drawing her down into another of his drugging kisses.

His lips slid against hers, and she felt his hands slide over the curve of her ass, pressing her against his throbbing length, and she gave a sigh of bliss as his kiss ended. She lifted a hand, tracing a fingertip over his lips, and then gave him an impish smile, before shifting so she could get his pants off of him. Her fingers trembled as she worked, and she wanted to curse them. When she pushed the damn pants out of her way, she felt her eyes widen, staring at him in his unclothed glory in the firelight.

She hadn’t been imagining it. His skin glowed just a bit. She hadn’t noticed that when she was fifteen. Intrigued by that, she slid her fingers over his skin, up over his thighs. She leaned forward, brushing her lips over his length. 

Jareth released a groan that sounded like her name, and she lifted her gaze to him, seeing him looking at her, still. His expression was almost one of pain, and she kept his gaze when she brushed her lips over him again.

His head fell back and released from his captivating gaze, giving her an uninhibited view of the whole length of his body. Her breath sighed out and she wrapped a hand around him to hold his length steady before she drug her tongue over him. As she watched him, his hand shot up to cover his mouth and she saw him stifle his own response and she had a very sudden thought.

When this was over, she wanted him in a bed, where they didn’t have to hide their responses. She wanted to hear what he sounded like when she pushed him to the edge of his control. She wanted him to hear what his touches and kisses did to her.

After a moment of teasing him, she figured fair was fair. So she wrapped her lips over the tip of his cock, her hand stroking the rest, slow and careful. She didn’t close her eyes, watching him squirm beneath her and she felt incredibly powerful right then.

Before long, he gripped her by her arms to stop her, not letting her finish. She would have voiced an objection, but his lips silenced her.His hand tangled into her hair as he pulled her to straddle him again, telling her without words why he’d stopped her.

Between one kiss and the next, he gasped a single word.

“Please.”

She drew back enough to look at him, wide eyed. Then, she wrapped herself around him, kissing him, her passion taking a sweeter edge until she felt him lifting her, and then the tip of his cock brushed against her, and she pressed her forehead against his. 

“Yes,” she answered him, her nails digging into his shoulders just a bit.

He gave a quiet hiss, and then, he shifted and she mewled as she felt a bit more of him press into her.

_Yes, please, more of that._

She opened her eyes, finding his own open, again, looking at her. She lifted her hand to his cheek, trying to keep looking at him as he did at her, but she couldn’t. Each roll of his hips buried him a bit further into her, his grip preventing a quick descent. Her breath hitched, eyes closed and her head fell back.

His teeth found the skin of her shoulder, their sharpness making her whimper, her hand sliding into his hair, curving over his scalp to hold him there. She could feel him leaving a love bite there, lips pulling at her skin, sucking it, as he lowered her so slowly. If she could have shaken free of how she felt, she might have strangled him for the slowness.

Then, she felt his hips against her, and his teeth released her, and she found his eyes, seeing that fragile hope flowing deep in his. Looking down between them, she could see where their bodies met, and she slipped a hand between then, touching the base that didn't quite make it into her.

A snarl left the man above her, and she met his eyes, seeing his expression twisted somewhere near pain.

He glowed in the firelight, his skin, his eyes, his starlight hair. 

He was so beautiful.

Then, his grip on her changed, and he rolled her beneath him, again, leaning over her, still buried inside of her. He slipped an arm under her thigh, and that slight change had him fitting into her completely. Her back arched and she’d have cried out if his lips hadn’t closed over hers, muffling the noise she made.

He was still, like that for another moment, kissing her, pressed so deep inside of her, it should have hurt. But it didn't, it was just that wonderful fullness, and his hips pressing against hers. She watched him lift off of her just a bit, and he shifted, withdrawing until she thought he was going to leave her completely, and she bit her lip, reaching for him.

He grinned against her lips, that mischievous smile she loved so much, and then he filled her again, all at once. Her head fell back against the sleeping bag, and she arched towards him.

_Please, yes._

“Yes,” he answered her thought, and he was moving, each thrust of his hips against hers spiking her pleasure, one hand finding her breast, teasing over the swollen peak. She pressed towards him, wanting more of everything, more of his touch, his kisses that were moving down her throat.

Everything about him had her twisted up.

His lips parted and she felt the faintest pressure of sharp teeth on her throat, as if a reminder that he was more dangerous than anything else, a reminder that he wasn’t human. But that sharpness on her skin didn’t scare her, it just made everything a little more.

The man above her must have felt her reaction, because he moaned, and pretense of gentility was gone. His hands found her hips and he was driving into her, pulling her against him to make sure that every single inch of his cock was buried inside of her. He was so deep, it was just on the edge of pain, and she loved it.

She’d been very close several times, and she knew it, but every time she thought she’d come, he’d pause with her just on the edge of that threshold. At first, she thought it had been an accident, then by the third time she realized he was doing that on purpose, and she gave the quietest snarl of her own, lifting her hand, and curling it in his fine hair to make him look at her.

Mischief and pleasure in those eyes. Hunger, desire, and that hope. Maybe a bit of annoyance, because she wasn’t being gentle with his hair, now.

She used the grip to pull him kissing close, but she didn’t kiss him, yet.

He didn’t look away, but his lips curved into a smile and he parted his lips, an invitation if she’d ever seen one. The hand at her breast slid down over her stomach, pausing just above her clit. She used her grip on his hair to pull him into a kiss and moaned as his fingers started brushing over her.

This time, when the pleasure built, he didn’t stop, his hips pressing hers hard, and she gasped and whimpered against his mouth, feeling herself trembling.

“Please,” she whispered, and he didn’t tease her, his movements sharper, harder, and she noticed the feel of him inside of her change. Her head dug back against the ground, and his lips met her shoulder, then a sharp pain there pushed her over the edge.

His hips snapped against hers, and she heard and felt the snarl that left him. It vibrated through her from his lips, down to where they joined. Her breath shuddered out of her, each twitch of the man above her making her shiver. She drugged her eyes open slowly, feeling drunk and overwhelmed as she looked up at the sky, at the stars above them.

She loved him.

His teeth left her shoulder and his eyes drifted in front of her. His expression was a bit shaken, but there was no regret or temper there. He was still so deep inside of her.

She smoothed her hand from his hair, fingers stroking down his cheek, looking at him in wonder. But she didn't say the three words she’d thought. She just looked up at him and gave him a soft smile, then tugged him down to her chest, wrapping her arms around him and holding on.

She stroked her fingers through his hair, still looking up at the stars that watched them, basking in the afterglow of making love to him.

They’d have to move, soon. She knew it. But right then, she wasn’t going to let either of them think about that, about the danger. They were alive. And she wouldn’t let him get hurt, again.


	12. Chapter 12

Sometime after Jareth had settled on top of her for that snuggle, Sarah’s exhaustion caught up with her. The cocaine had kept her awake and alert for a time, but that time was up. She drifted off, surrounded by the scent of him mingling with the scent of the mossy ground and woodsmoke from the fire near them. His weight kept her grounded, while she drifted through uneasy dreams.

She woke when she felt Jareth’s weight and warmth lift from her. She grumbled, and reached for him, still in the pull of her exhaustion. If he just laid back down, she’d go right back to sleep and she knew it. His bare hand wrapped around hers, and she felt his lips chase over the back. Then, she felt him sliding her underwear and pants back up her legs, and his lips against her stomach, as he fastened them in place.

Damn.

She gave a tired sigh, accepting that she was going to have to get up and start moving again. Her bleary eyes opened and she half-glared at the brightening sky. She could see the pink hue of post-dawn sunlight through the canopy of trees.

“Not fair, is it?”

The tease was close to her ear, and she turned to look at Jareth. He was propped on his elbow beside her, dressed again, but still looking rumpled for their trek through the woods. He was smiling at her, and she felt his now gloved fingers wandering, a trailing path of warmth over her stomach. He looked more relaxed than she’d ever seen him. The twist of his lips was quite amused, and she caught up with his words, remembering her constant entreats when she ran his Labyrinth about “fairness”.

It forced a smile onto her own lips. “Not really, no.”

He chuckled, leaning close, giving her a brief brush of his lips on hers. Then he was pulling back before she could react to the kiss. She grumbled, pouting. His blue eyes sparkled with mischief as he looked at her. Then, his gloved hand took hers, helping her into a seated position.

When he shifted behind her, she glanced back at him in confusion. “Jareth?”

“As much as I hate to hurry us along - at least in this case - your breasts are terribly distracting.” She blushed, and felt him shifting her bra, and then hooking it closed in the back. He paused, and she felt his lips brush over her shoulder, close to where he’d left the love bite on her shoulder the night before. “That crash wasn’t from exhaustion alone. How much cocaine did you end up using, precious?”

She shivered a bit at the feel of his starlight hair brushing against her skin. “I got a little on a fingertip, rubbed it into my gumline. Gets it into the blood quicker that way, without feeling like my head is going to pop.”

He lifted a brow, as though intrigued. “Sounds like you have some experience outside my uninvited dosing.”

“Yes, well. Shit happens.” She admitted. “I got into some when I was in college, and it was a bad enough experience, I didn’t want to use it again. I didn’t have a choice, this time. I wasn’t even running on fumes by the time I got us here. I was already tired before the pooka showed up, and...” 

She reached for her shirt, shifted her breasts so they rested comfortably in the bra, and pulled the shirt over her head. She got her socks and shoes on, after that, and then reached for her pack, pulling out the map, offering it to him to look at. “I’m not certain how distance measurements work here, compared to above, but it looks like we’re close.”

He took it, looking at the soft leather in surprise. His eyes lifted to her, that complicated vulnerability bright in them, again. “You carried me this far? And didn’t abandon the pack? I’m impressed.

“Stubbornness and fear,” she admitted, her eyes searching his own for a long moment. “Speaking of fear, don’t you ever scare me like that again, your majesty. I don’t take well to panic, and I’ve had quite enough of that from everything else since I’ve been here.”

His lips twitched a bit at her use of his title, ending up in a smirk that was familiar from when she’d faced him in the Labyrinth. “I suppose I’d better find other, exciting, new ways to scare you, then. Only fair when one considers the number of times since our reunion that you’ve scared the liver out of me. I owe you a few.”

She felt her own lips pull into a smile as well. She reached, taking his hand in hers, stroking over the soft leather that covered his fingers. When she lifted her eyes to his, again, she worried that her heart was in them. “Alright. I can live with that. Only fair.”

He searched her eyes for a long moment, then brought her fingers to his lips, his eyes falling closed while he lingered on that gentle kiss. Then, he got to his feet, using his grip on her hand to pull her along with him. “Alright, precious. Fill me in on what I missed.”

Both were too aware that they’d need to move, and soon. So, they started tearing down the camp, and while they worked, Sarah told him about Fear Gorta. She was quite careful to dance around how much she’d worried about him, how she’d kept her grip on his wrists so she could check his pulse as she’d walked. She didn’t fancy him knowing just yet how much power he had over her, now.

The sex the night before had felt like more. It felt like relief and love and joy.

The locked box she’d been shoving those damn thoughts into had been destroyed when the gancanagh attacked. She knew she was attracted to him, and had always known that. But she hadn’t realized how close to bursting that damn place she’d stuffed those thoughts and feelings was until the creature had kissed her using his face. The kiss, the next day, did nothing but shine a strong light on that.

“Then, you’re out of safe food. I’ll see what I can do.”

She half-turned towards him, seeing him banking the fire, but not looking at her. When he did things, said things like that, it didn’t help her lock the thoughts she was having away.

She loved him. As he’d pointed out before, he wasn’t human. She didn’t even know if he had the capacity to feel things like that. But that hope she kept seeing in his eyes twisted her up and confused her. She sighed out through her nose, trying to shake these thoughts away so she could focus on what she needed to do.

Sarah had just packed up the sleeping bag when an unfamiliar voice met her ears, and the coldness in it caused a shiver of fear to crawl up her spine.

“Well, well. What have we, here?”

Jareth whipped towards the voice, and she saw him shift to put himself between her and the intruder. There it was, again. For something that said he wasn’t human, his mannerisms, his protectiveness of her, made him seem human.

She shook that thought away, and took the moment he’d given her to finish packing the blanket away, and as she did, her hand brushed one of the sealed bags still inside. She paused, frowning, pulling open the bag and finding it was the rice she’d packed. She wrapped her hand around the edge of the bag, hoping that whatever luck she’d gotten from helping Fear Gorta was still hanging around her.

Amusement made her lips twitch a bit. Knowing how her luck had been since this trip had begun, she’d burned through all that luck with Jareth the night before.

Again, she forced herself to push that thought aside, not voicing it out loud. Getting to her feet, she shouldered her pack, then moved to Jareth’s side, keeping the bag of rice tucked between her back and the pack, holding it closed for now.

The interloper was an older man, with dark eyes, and hair silvered at the temples. Whoever he was, she could feel Jareth was tense at her side, and she glanced at him, seeing his beautiful eyes had darkened with fear and temper.

“Crom Cruach,” Jareth said, and his tone was wary. That was enough of a hint that she should be wary as well. Assuming she could smother enough of her personality to not antagonize the man who was making her lover bristle with presence alone.

She doubted she’d manage that.

The older man smiled a cold smile, then pushed off the tree he was leaning against, moving towards them. “You know, Jareth, when I was told you were the one who kept getting in my way, I honestly didn’t believe it. And yet, here you are. Helping this lost little mortal brat find _my_ treasure.”

The creature gave a tutting sound, pacing around them. He wasn’t quite arm’s reach from them, and he maintained that distance as he paced in a circle around them. “Honestly, I didn’t think you might be such a fool. The mortal girl is none of your concern. Out of respect for your position, I’m giving you the chance to walk away.”

The implication that Jareth was a fool made Sarah bristle in annoyance. It was one thing when she and Jareth sniped each other with words, but this bastard had no right.

Jareth turned them as Crom Cruach paced around them, never letting the other man having their backs. His eyes hadn’t flicked towards her even once. She could feel the tension in him, and allowed him to turn her with him. She kept her eyes on the treeline. She thought she could hear hooves, restless on the ground.

“I appreciate the offer, but I’m afraid I must decline.” Jareth sneered. “This does, however, explain why so many creatures are acting outside of their own characters. Banshee attempts to trick her to her death. Pooka hunting in packs, not for mischief, but for killing. Did you bespell everything in the area?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Jareth. The Dullahan are the only ones who required such control. The rest I simply bribed.”

“And why is that?” Jareth was glancing about, but still turned her like they were dancing. Like when they’d danced together in her peach dream.

The creature glared at them both, seeming annoyed that this wasn’t going how he’d planned. “The treasure that Rhiannon hid is my key to crossing the veil and returning to my former glory,” Crom Cruach snarled. It put it’s focus, then, on her.

Sarah felt her stomach twist in anxiety when he looked her in the eyes, pinning her with his dark gaze. She smelled a noxiously sweet scent in the air, and Jareth snarled beside her, his grip on her waist growing tighter.

“Come to me, child.”

She wasn’t certain why - if it was because she was annoyed by the bastard calling her a child, if it was something else entirely - but the pull she felt was weaker, more muted, than the other times someone had tried spellbinding her. It was like hearing a radio through a thin wall in another room.

Jareth, even weak and drained of magic had been able to force her to do what he’d wanted. 

She could feel Jareth’s grip on her waist with his arm, and she lifted her hand, wrapping her fingers over his wrist, her fingers brushing against the bare skin between glove and sleeve. She closed her eyes, taking a steadying breath and shook her head to clear it.

Then, she lifted her head and looked at the creature standing before she and Jareth.

“No,” she said, feeling quiet and calm.

Shock in the creature, Crom Cruach’s eyes. She could feel Jareth looking at her, but there was relief in his eyes. She took a steadying breath, feeling nauseous from repelling the magic that was trying to ensnare her. She glanced up at the man who held her protective against his side, then back at the bastard trying to kill her.

“Trying to spellbind me? To ensnare me through my eyes? As if that hadn’t been happening on a nearly daily basis since I got here.” She scoffed, glaring at Crom Cruach, her temper straining. She was angry. Angry that this bastard hadn’t given her a chance to properly mourn her grandmother, that he’d put her through a week of hell, angry that she’d gotten spellbound so many times, already. Angrier still that he had underestimated her. “As many times as that’s happened in the last few days, I must have built up a tolerance of some kind. Because on his weakest day, Jareth was more successful than you were.”

She saw Jareth’s eyes widen in her peripheral vision and he lifted a hand, covering his mouth. He said nothing. She wished she could see his eyes. There was a smirk on his lips when he dropped his hand, and she wondered what he was keeping so close to his chest, right then. She thought if she looked into his eyes, she’d see what it was.

But it didn’t matter. Not yet.

Keeping her eyes on the bastard, she brushed her fingers against Jareth’s bare wrist again. She wasn’t certain if it was to comfort her or him, or to just feel his soft skin under her fingers.

“So,” she said, keeping her glare on Crom Cruach, steading herself for whatever might come next. “What’s your ‘Plan B’?”

Fury in the faerie creature’s eyes and she saw his appearance darken to match. Clothes which had seemed dapper and unthreatening turned black with it’s rage. A dark gloved hand lifted and Sarah saw several Dullahan move forward from the trees. Horse hooves moved restless against the ground as they formed a half-circle around herself and Jareth. She heard the man holding her snarl something in response and Crom Cruach smiled in a patronizing manner at them.

“Sarah,” Jareth’s voice was hard against her ear and she half-turned to glare at him.

“If you’re going to try to tell me to run, again, I will kick you so hard you won’t be able to use your assets for at least a month.” She bit out, turning her gaze back to the Dullahan surrounding them. She worked her fingers into the opening of the bag, prying it further open with one hand. She felt it’s balance shift as the zip on the bag pulled open completely. “Close your eyes for a minute, Jareth.”

Those words were quieter, just for him. He looked perplexed, shaking his head. “Sarah -”

“Just this once, trust me, and close your eyes.” She couldn’t say what she’d planned, or she’d give them a warning before she put her plan in action. But if this actually worked, she didn’t want Jareth ensnared by the trick, too.

The mercurial bastard gave a rough laugh that had an edge of fear in it. The hand at her waist turned, fingers lacing with hers. “More than myself, to be honest, precious.”

“Kill them,” Crom Cruach snarled, and the Dullahan lunged towards them.

She whipped the bag of rice around them in a wide arch, scattering the grounds on the ground around them. Jareth’s eyes were closed, so he didn’t see it, but the riders did. They fell off their horses and onto the rice. Even Crom Cruach struggled with the urge to go, to count each grain and arrange them neatly. Dark eyes met hers for a moment, and then she turned, using her grip on Jareth’s hand to pull him along as she ran as fast as she could.

Jareth ran with her, his hand tight on hers. His eyes were open, now and found hers. “Sarah, what did you do?”

“Rice,” she gasped as she ran. She wasn’t certain she could give him more of an explanation. Talking wasn’t easy, but he deserved a real answer. Sucking in a breath, she spoke on the exhale. “Gran always kept some in her room. Worked on something the night she died, gave me a chance to hide.”

He laughed, his eyes finding hers. His were alight with something that might have been admiration, warmed with something else. When he looked at her like that, she wanted to kiss him. His fingers squeezed hers. “You’re brilliant!”

She grinned back at him. She didn’t know how long the rice would keep them busy. She just hoped that it would give them enough time to get away. And for a moment, she prayed that whatever luck she’d gotten from Fear Gorta would hold out just a little bit longer.


	13. Chapter 13

They didn’t slow down or stop running until Crom Cruach’s enraged shouts and the frantic counting of the Dullahan had faded to nothing. Even then, they kept running for some time. Sarah had a side stitch that had started within minutes of running, and when they stopped, she bent forward, trying to catch her breath. Jareth stood close, his hand rubbing over her back, his own breath a little short.

The clearing they stood in was filled with little hummocks of land covered in wildflowers and felled trees. It was beautiful, but she still felt like they were in danger, and she felt the urge to run.

After a moment, Jareth pulled out some of the safe water he’d been providing and she was glad to drink what she could without worrying about throwing up. She was hungry, too, but that would have to wait. She’d deal with the food problem when they weren’t in so much danger.

The man standing with her didn’t look winded in the slightest. The bastard just looked a little rumpled and windswept, and even more beautiful for their flight.

“Who in the hell was that guy?!” She gasped between breaths. She felt like she was recovering faster from this sprint than the other times she’d had to run, but that pain in her side wasn’t easing, yet.

“A faerie creature who fancied himself a god, eons ago. Humans did worship him, back in pre-Christian Ireland. He was considered a fertility god, but like most faerie creatures he was a capricious bastard, and liked to demand human sacrifices for his services.”

She straightened, noting that the pain had died down enough that she could. Maybe she was getting used to all the running. Still, she tried to focus on Jareth’s words.

“Sounds like a prick.”

A rough chuckle from the man beside her, and she felt his hand under her elbow, as if he was offering her that in support. “The Christians claimed credit for Crom’s inevitable return to the faerie lands in the form of Saint Patrick, but in all honesty, it was the Tuatha de Dannan who dragged him back, after the Fomorians pulled him above. I shudder to think what he’d attempt if he got into the above in the modern era.”

“What the fuck does he want to go above for? If he thinks that anyone will bow and worship him, now, he’s nuts. The only thing most people really worship anymore are money and power. Even good Christians are beholden to the damn things, never mind people who are of a different approach.”

“And you?”

She blinked, looking towards him. “Jareth, in my private life, I live in a studio apartment and try to get into whatever plays the local theater troupe has. Wealth and power don’t hold much sway.”

“Damn, seems I offered the naive young girl the wrong dreams.”

The tease startled her and she gave a short laugh.

“Regardless, he’d have had both if he managed to find this before we did.”

She paused, blinked and looked at him, confused. “What?”

He reached into the pocket he’d stuffed the map into, and withdrew it. When it unrolled, he held it out to her, his lips curved into a smile. “Look at the map, precious.”

She pulled it close, and when she looked at the surface, she found her location glowing on it, much brighter than it had the days before. She and Jareth were standing on the center of the cross that marked the map. While she stared, filled with wonder, Jareth hooked a finger into the chain, drawing it from her shirt. Her eyes moved to the pendant and she found it was glowing as well. She lifted her gaze to his face, staring at him in surprise.

His blue eyes held an intensity which made her shiver. “Can you feel it, Sarah?”

The way he spoke her name caused a different sort of tremble in her, and she closed her eyes, taking a deep breath.

There was petrichor on the air. The currents felt as if it was charged, like lightning was about to strike. She could feel the hairs on her arm lifting and standing at attention. She could feel it.

“Oh,” she breathed, her eyes popping open to look at his face. She knew what she had to do. She wasn’t certain why she knew, but she did. Using one hand to support the map, she drew the necklace from around her neck and held it over the map, lowering it over that cross. As it drew close, the cross on the map started to glow as well, and the pendant pulled towards it, the chain growing tight in her grasp, as if it was fighting against her to reach it.

The closer it came to the leather, the greater the feeling of anticipation around them grew. When the pendant slipped free of her grasp, it rested neatly into the matching spot on the map. The whole map started to glow and lifted off her hands.

“Jareth?” she asked, nervous and a little afraid. She couldn’t help the feelings. This felt so much bigger than she was, but here she was, in the middle of it.

Jareth’s hand wrapped over hers and she lifted her gaze towards him. “The lock and the key.”

She watched with him as the map floated over towards one of those hummocks of land. It came to rest flat on a patch of wildflowers, and seemed to sink below the grass and dirt. When it had settled, the glow spread across the land, and when it faded, what was left was a door in place of a map, and a cross shaped handle. Hand in hand, they both moved towards it, and Jareth sank to the ground first, his finger tracing the edge of the door that had appeared.

“Oh, that is very clever,” he said, voice surprised and amazed. There was an almost child-like excitement in his eyes when they lifted to look at her.

His voice held such admiration for the magic they’d just witnessed, she couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped her. She knelt beside him, watching as he sat back. He didn’t reach for the handle, so she did, turning the small cross-shape that had once been a pendant. The door opened slowly, as if it had been closed for a very long time. Hell, from what she could tell it had been.

Beyond the door was a vault of packed earth, smelling fresh, rather than dusty. And inside that vault, wrapped and hidden away, were a spear, a sword, a piece of shining jade, and a golden cauldron. There was a whistle in there, as well, tucked inside the cauldron, made of wood. Each item was inlaid with gold and bronze and silver, the craftsmanship undeniable as the age. The marks on them were ones that her grandmother had shown her before, ancient symbols that hadn’t been used for centuries. “These are all so…”

She looked at Jareth and found him staring at them, his expression hungry and wary. “When I saw that Crom was the one after you, I suspected it might be this, but…”

She watched him extend a hand, reaching and brushing a fingertip across the treasures they’d found buried in the vault. “Jareth, what are they? What is it he’s after?”

His eyes lifted to her, and they were clear. “These are the treasures of the Tuatha de Dannan. They’ve been missing for...well. Longer than since Crom has been back on this side of the veil. When the Tuatha de retreated to the Underground, it was rumored that they were hidden. Did those two find them and hide them with magic?”

She watched him pull his hand back and thought she saw his fingers tremble a bit. “Who?”

“Your grandmother, Rhiannon and Cuchulain, her husband. Crazy fools. Clever bastards…”

The tone he used was filled with respect and admiration, though the words were -

Sarah blinked, catching the second name, and remembering stories her grandmother had told her. “Wait, do you mean to tell me that Grandmammy Rhi was married to the legendary Celtic hero, Cuchulain?”

He didn’t answer, but he looked at her, his eyes sharp. He reached in, drawing the whistle out and looking at it for a long moment, turning it over in his hand. His brow furrowed just a bit. When he turned towards her, she saw the anxiety and fear in his eyes. “I’m going to destroy the access to these. Take this, the rest are too dangerous to let out into the world.”

She didn’t like the look in his eyes. “Jareth, what are you talking about?”

He took her hand, and stuffed the whistle into it. He wasn’t looking at her, and she saw the muscle in his jaw flex. Still, when he looked at her, there was no temper in his eyes, as if he had sanitized himself of all emotion. Then, his eyes flicked to the treeline, as if he were looking for something he knew was coming. “The whistle will take you home. There’s no more time, precious. You have to go, now. Before he catches up.”

She stared at him, her jaw cramping from how hard she was clenching her teeth together. “No.”

His eyes whipped towards her, and she saw temper in his eyes. His hand wrapped around her arm, almost tight enough to bruise. He was furious with her and she could see it. “I helped you find the treasure. Crom is on his way. This is all we can do to keep him from getting access to these. Go _home_ , Sarah.”

She set her hand over his wrist, keeping her touch gentle. Then, she lifted her gaze and looked him in the eyes for a long moment. She narrowed them, letting him see that she wasn’t going to budge on this. “I’m not going.”

He snarled, frustrated and angry. “He’ll kill you. After telling me I wasn’t allowed to die protecting you, are you telling me you’ll stay here and die in front of me?!”

He tried to pull away from her, but she tightened her grip on his hand, staring up into his eyes. No matter how hard he tried, he could never hide anything from her if she looked in his eyes. Right now, they were murky with fear. Fear for her, for himself, and deeper was that fragile hope she’d seen burn so bright the night before. She wasn’t certain she could use a human emotion to name it, but she thought - hoped - it was love.

“I’m not leaving you behind. So you need to get used to that.”

He got to his feet, ripping his arm away from her, pacing the clearing and muttering under his breath. “More damnable courage than brains.”

The mutter should have offended her, would have any other time. She got to her feet, moving towards him, and he caught his arm, moving around to force him to look at her. “Jareth, I’m not leaving you behind as fodder, to die in my place. I couldn’t live with myself.”

“How am I supposed to live with myself if you die when I could ensure your safety?” He looked feral with anger when he looked at her.

She caught his wrists, slipping her hands down to lace through his. She stepped towards him,   
so there was barely a breath between them. When she looked up at him, meeting his gaze, his face didn’t look so angry any longer. It just looked like he was preparing for a death blow, grieving and so very afraid. He looked so vulnerable right then. She stepped closer, setting her palm against his cheek. “Don’t ask me to leave you like this. I can’t.”

The sigh that left him sounded like she’d squeezed it from his lungs. He closed his eyes and his forehead came to rest against hers. “Stubborn woman.”

“Like you’d have me any other way,” she teased, giving him a shaky smile.

His expression relaxed, and he lifted an arm around her, holding her close. “Well, precious. Short of you having another bag of rice, I don’t know what to do this time. My bag of tricks may fool the Dullahan, but they will not work on Crom the same way. He’s older than I, and at least as powerful.”

She gave him a grin, and headed back over towards the open earth vault. She placed the whistle back in the cauldron and pulled the sword out, looking at him. She could hear the thundering of hooves drawing nearer to them, again. When Jareth met her gaze, she offered him her hand. “I’m not a damsel in need of your defense, Jareth. You’ve been protecting me all this time, but I’m used to fighting my own battles. If this has come to a fight, so be it. I’d rather fight at your side than hide behind your back. Even if the view from behind you is excellent.

His eyes widened a bit at her tease, but he didn’t take her bait. He strode towards her, and reached into the vault, pulling out the spear. Then, he looked at her, his face serious.

“When this is all over, we need to talk,” he said, then kicked the door shut, taking up the pendant and looping it over her neck, and shoving the map back in his rear pocket. Then, his hand set on hers, and he looked at her for a long moment.

She gave him a sassy smile, curling her fingers over his. “Just talk?”

He looked at her, a bit of surprise on his face before a pleased smile curved his lips. He turned towards her, ignoring the approaching riders. “Temptress.”

She grinned, squeezing his hands. “Am I? How’s that?”

He gave a rough laugh. “You know how.”

The answer drew her in more than anything. Like it was code for his feelings, like he was telling her he loved her without using the words. She would have answered back, but the Dullahan chose right then to pour into the clearing. They formed a circle around them, trapping them against the hummock. She released one of Jareth’s hands, turning towards them, facing them.

Behind them, in the only break between the dark, hooded figures, stepped Crom Cruach, the darkness of absolute rage in his eyes.


	14. Chapter 14

“Quite the cunning little bitch,” Crom Cruach snarled, pacing past the line of Dullahan, closer towards them. “Such a simple and yet effective manner of distraction. Just like Rhiannon.”

Jareth scoffed at her side, his expression amused. When he spoke, his voice was laced with laughter. “Oh, I promise Sarah is far, far worse than her grandmother.”

Sarah glanced at him from the corner of her eyes, lifting a brow at him, her own lips twisting into a smile. “Oh?”

“Naturally, precious. It took Rhiannon the full thirteen hours to solve the Labyrinth. I had to cheat, steal time, gave you a dream peach and threw every single thing I had at you, and you still defeated me.”

She looked at him, her jaw handing a bit. “You _sneaky_ \- So you _did_ cheat!”

Crom snarled at them, not finding their banter as much as Jareth did. The rage seemed to flow off of him in waves, causing darkness to start swallowing the area around them. “I will have that treasure, now, _girl!_ ”

She looked back at Crom. Worrying her lower lip for a moment, she shook her head. “No. I don’t think so.”

The creature snarled again, and she felt Jareth’s lips brush her ear when he spoke next, his voice soft. “You do know how to use that sword, right, precious?”

She felt him shift, so his back was to hers, and the warmth of him was a comfort. Still, she felt a flicker of annoyance with the man. Of course she knew how to use a sword. She’d taken more than theater in college. Granted, fencing wasn’t the same as using a hand and a half sword, but she’d figure it out. She swallowed hard, holding onto her sass and her temper. “I don’t recall you complaining about my swordplay last night, your majesty.”

The laugh she startled out of him pleased her, but she kept her focus on the Dullahan started moving towards them and Sarah lifted the blade in both hands, looking at them close. She pressed her back against Jareth’s, taking a steadying breath.

“Fair enough, minx,” Jareth said back, and she felt him lean against her in answer. One of his hands closed on her hip, a gloved thumb brushing over her side, just above the top of her jeans. “We’ll have to see if there’s anything else we can teach each other, later.”

She gave a shaking laugh of her own.

Between one breath and the next, the Dullahan attacked, one lifting a whip that looked like a human spine and swinging it at her face. She leaned aside, using the flat of the blade to smack the whip away from them, feeling Jareth turning as she did. She couldn’t give him much of her attention, keeping it focused outwards and on their opponents. As they turned, Sarah caught the scent of ozone sharp in the air, the scent of his magic, and then one of those terrifying screams split the air.

Chaos erupted, the creatures falling on them in their rage. They seemed to keep getting back up when they’d fall down, and just keep fighting. Only the ones Jareth hit with magic seemed to stay down longer, and when he’d cut one down, another would just move forward and take its place.

Still, as long as Jareth was at her back, she didn’t feel afraid of the overwhelming numbers. If she had to go down, it was going to be fighting.

Then, a break formed in the group and a hand reached through. It grabbed her wrist, jerking her away from Jareth, away from the man who protected her, who she wanted to protect, too. That left him standing alone against overwhelming numbers of Dullahan.

_No!_

The hand whipped her around and she found herself facing Crom Cruach. She heard Jareth shout her name in alarm, in fear. That sickly sweet smell filled the air around her, stronger since she was closer to the bastard. Cold, dark eyes filled her vision. When he spoke, she could feel the power he wrapped around his words.

“Take that blade and draw it across your own throat.”

She felt her arm as it lifted, doing as she was being magically compelled to do. Then, she caught the words, understanding what he meant to do. She fought the spellbinding as hard as she could. A snarl of rage ripped from her, and her hand shook from the effort of fighting that order.

That sweet scent grew stronger around her and those eyes held a depth of rage she’d only ever seen in Jareth. The flash of his blue eyes in her head helped clear it and she took a steadying breath.

“I said draw that blade across your own throat, you mortal _bitch_.”

_Pain works just as well for snapping someone out of one._

She heard Jareth shout her name, again, over his own words in her head, heard the fear and pain in his voice.

Jareth’s words filled her head, and she looked the bastard in the eye, clamping down on the side of her tongue with her teeth as hard as she could. She bit herself so hard, she tasted the sharp tang of her own blood. She kept right on biting it until she felt the magic snap and her mind clear again.

She looked Crom Cruach in the eyes, changed her grip on the sword, and took a steadying breath seeing the confusion and fear in his own eyes.

“No,” She snarled. Then, she turned with a sharp movement, one step, another, lifting the sword as she moved, bringing it around her body as she rotated. The man danced backwards, and she saw rage still burning in his gaze, but it was being replaced by a fear like she’d felt burning in her heart since the night her grandmother died.

The creature snarled back at her, extending his hand and bringing up two glowing short swords that looked like he’d formed them from magic.

She wanted to check on Jareth, but right then, she couldn’t afford to take her eyes off her own opponent. She could still hear him, and took that much as a comfort. Luck would only get them so far. She needed to end this fight as quickly as she could. So she lifted the sword, looking the man in the face and tucked her hand against the small of her back.

For the size of the sword, it didn’t feel heavy. But considering she was pretty certain this was a magical item, that didn’t surprise her. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she mentally flew through what little sword training she’d had.

Crom snarled at her, lunging towards her, lifting one sword, then the other. She danced back, and when his blades were clear, she jabbed, stepping towards him. He spun, trying to slash her, and she ducked around the blade.

It seemed, to her, that the more magic this creature used, the older he seemed, and while she and Jareth had had some time to observe the terrain, Crom Cruach hadn’t. The fight drug on until he stepped back into a dip in the land, and she took quick advantage of the man’s loss of balance.

Another quick turn, and the blade hit the man in the neck, cutting through his throat and severing his head from his shoulders. The head fell first, expression still shocked. The body stood for another moment, and then fell aside, as the head rolled to a stop near her feet.

She froze, standing there, stunned.

Like a hot knife through butter, her brain told her, and she stared down into the now vacant eyes of what had once been a god. A god that she’d just beheaded. She looked at the sword, giving a shudder.

The sword she held seemed to glow with unnatural fire, and she saw blood dripping down it.

She looked down at herself, and swayed a bit. 

Sarah didn’t like the feeling of blood on her skin, she decided for the second time in less than a week. Still, logic told her, when you cut through major blood vessels, spray was inevitable. She also realized, looking at her shaking hands, that she was probably in shock.

Beheading another creature shouldn’t be that easy.

She realized it was probably the sword, her brain turning over what she knew of the legends involving the treasures. Nuada Aitgetlam’s sword. A sword that none could resist, and all would fall before. She shuddered, again, remembering Jareth alone facing the Dullahan. She turned, lifting the sword again. The fight wasn’t over, she had to help him -

The sword dropped to her side as she looked on. The Dullahan had stopped attacking. They were turned, facing her. One stepped forward, and as she watched, it knelt before her.

When it spoke, it’s voice reminded her of the sound of logs crackling and hissing on a fire. 

“We are in your debt, Champion.”

She blinked, then lifted her eyes to Jareth’s. He looked at her, and shrugged, looking on.

The other Dullahan followed suit, until all of the dark figures were on their knees. Nearby, their horses grazed on the edge of the clearing, less restless, seeming less monstrous.

The first to speak, spoke again. “Crom Cruach enthralled us, spellbound us and used us to search for the treasures. Cuchulain and his lady were right to hide them from him. He is not to be trusted with such power.

Jareth shifted around them until he was at her side again, and he paused, looking her up and down. When he verified that she was alright, he turned towards the creatures. “So, then. What now?”

“We only ask to be given our leave. This enchantment has resulted in us neglecting our duties, and we have all suffered for it. It is time we resumed those duties.”

Sarah shook herself, feeling Jareth put an arm around her shoulders. Then she nodded. “Then, please go. No offense, but you guys have been scaring the hell out of me and I’ll feel better when there’s some distance between us.”

The first that had knelt stood once again. The head beneath it’s arm seemed to smile a bit wider. “No offense taken, Champion. Fear suits us fine.”

As she and Jareth stood side-by-side, the creatures mounted their horses, and started riding away in different directions. The last one, however, reigned in for a moment, turning to look at them. “If you bury the head and the body separate, it won’t be able to heal itself.”

Then, the rider turned, and disappeared in the trees, leaving them alone in the clearing.

“Good to know.” Jareth said, watching the rider as he left them. Then, Jareth turned towards her, and she lifted her gaze to look at him. His eyes searched hers for a long moment, and she thought he might kiss her. Relief and the faintest temper there. “Are you alright?”

She looked herself over, taking a shuddering breath. Then, she paused and looked up at him. “I bit the hell out of my tongue to break the spellbinding.”

He stared at her for a long moment. “You bit your tongue.”

“Well, you said pain helped break a spellbinding.” She said, her hands still trembling. She swallowed hard, looking down at the head at her feet. She wasn’t sure she was okay. She’d never thought she’d have to kill someone before. A gloved hand caught her chin, easing her face up. She met his gaze, and saw more relief there than temper.

He didn’t say anything else, he just leaned down and kissed her on the lips, his tongue pressing between hers. She smelled the scent of ozone around her, and when his tongue caressed hers, she felt that same tingle as when he’d healed her before. She lifted her empty hand, curling it into the leather of his vest to keep him close giving a quiet sound of pleasure in response to his kiss.

When the kiss broke, his eyes were dark with desire, again. She swallowed hard, seeing the faintest slash of blood on his lips. That’s when she realized she was still covered in the blood of her enemy, and with a shudder, her knees almost gave out.

Jareth’s arm at her waist kept her on her feet.

She changed her grip on the sword, considering dropping it, but instead, she stepped back. “We should...put these away.”

“Will you use that blasted whistle, now?”

She considered his question. She needed a bath. She felt absolutely disgusting. She had things she still needed to do at the cabin. But -

She lifted her eyes to him, again, keeping her face serious. “On one condition.”

He lifted a brow, looking interested. “Do tell.”

“We need to talk. You said that, too, before this asshole showed up. I’ve got things I’ve got to do, at the cabin. I need to pick up my grandmother’s ashes. Keeping me out of trouble, you’ve probably been neglecting your duties, too.” She kept her eyes on the top button of his vest, so she felt, rather than saw, him nod his head.. Worrying her lower lip, she lifted the pendant from her neck, looking at it for a long moment. Then she took his hand, setting the pendant in his palm.

“Sarah -”

“When you’ve handled your responsibilities, you’d better come by the cabin, even if it’s uncomfortable. You can bring these back to me, then. It’s my responsibility to take care of them, so if you don’t bring them back, I’ll come find you.”

Jareth gave a quiet laugh, and she lifted her eyes, looking at him. “Precious, you need to sleep for about a month straight, and have a few decent meals before you worry about anything.”

She looked up at him. “I’ll be honest. I don’t want to go, right now. I don’t want to leave you. But we both have things we need to do.”

He looked about ten feet tall for a moment, and he reached towards her. For a moment, she thought he was going to kiss her again. Then, his hands lowered. “Let’s return these treasures where they belong, and get you home. I’ll handle the rest of the work on this side. Then I’ll go deal with the miscreants who’ve been too long without their king. Who knows what mischief those idiots have gotten into.”

His eyes wouldn't quite meet hers for a long moment. She saw the muscle in his jaw flex, but for once she wasn’t certain if he was withholding words or emotions.

“And then we’ll talk?”

“Yes, precious, then we’ll talk.” He looked at her, and she saw the complicated look in them. “I’ll come to the cabin as soon as I’m able. But you have to go. The longer you stay, the higher the risk you change permanently. I already can’t estimate how much being here for so long has changed you.”

She met his gaze, searching his eyes for a long moment, then extended her hand to him. “Promise.”

He gave a laugh that was rough with emotion, and he took her hand, giving it a firm shake. Then, he used that grip to pull her close, kissing her hard on the lips. “I promise.”


	15. Chapter 15

Jareth had shown her how to use the whistle to travel after their promise. Once there, the first thing she did was shower and take a very long soak in the old claw-foot tub in the bathroom. While she laid there, she drifted on to the events of the last week, trying to not overthink everything. She didn’t want to overthink what she’d done, and she didn’t want to do the same with what she was feeling for her childhood nightmare.

Still, it seemed like every slow moment had her mind drifting back to the past few days. Too few to be sure of something like love, she felt. It had been a week there. Here, it seemed no time had passed at all.

When she went to collect her grandmother’s ashes, that feeling was confirmed. The doctor’s calendar had indicated only a day had passed on this side of the veil. She’d not commented on the doctor’s query if she was resting well. She wasn’t.

She tried to not dwell on how different the passage of time was there compared to here. She’d noticed that the first time she’d gone. Eleven hours hadn’t seemed to take any time at all. At first, that had been further proof that she must have dreamed it. Now, however, she knew it hadn’t been one. So, as days passed without a sign of the Goblin King, she tried to not wonder how long it had been for Jareth since he’d sent her home. 

She started taking more regular walks on the moor, trying to decide what to do with the cabin. She used that to distract her. Should she keep it, and stay here, closer to the wild magics, and as a result, closer to Jareth? Here, she had to be closer to him than she was in her tiny studio apartment in America.

She’d been there close to a week, trying to figure out what she was going to do, when there was a knock at the door close to sundown. Her mind raced to Jareth, and she rushed to the door, throwing it open.

Outside, faintly damp from the mist was her Grandmother’s solicitor, looking as uncomfortable as ever, looking up at her with an arched eyebrow.

“Pardon for the late hour. May I come in?”

It took effort to smother her disappointment. “Of course, come in.”

She held the door open further, stepping aside. He stepped in, and she turned to shut the door behind him. As she turned back, the scent of ozone hung thick in the air, and the small man looked like he shuddered, and then he grew taller, slimmer, hair sprouting out, bright as starlight.

She stared at Jareth’s back, trying to catch up with what just happened, remembering the other times the solicitor had come by, remembering how no one seemed to know who her grandmother’s solicitor was, though all of them swore they’d met the man. He was dressed in the same clothes, a sharp grey suit from her world, tailored to fit him perfectly.

“Oh, you sneaky son of a _bitch. That’s_ how you got past me?!”

Jareth turned, looking at her, a faint smirk on his lips. She could see the discomfort he had for being in the cabin more clear, now. The tension in his brow, the way the muscle in his jaw flexed. “Sneaking is such a rude way of putting it, precious. The human glamor allowed me to move among your kind without attracting interest or suspicion.”

She sputtered, walking towards him, glaring up at him. “I don’t care, right now, if it’s rude. You didn’t need it to come to see me, did you? How many people, on average, are around this cabin besides me?!”

“Well rested and feeling feisty again, I see.” The grin that curved his lips made her uncertain if she wanted to kiss him or strangle him.

She ground her teeth, smothering her immediate reaction to the man. She made sure he saw the displeasure in her eyes before she gave him her back, walking into the kitchen and started water for tea. She kept her back to him, then, so he wouldn’t see the tears in her eyes. She’d been keeping her fears buried for all this time, and didn’t want him to see those.

“Took your time getting here. I was starting to think I’d have to come get it.”

He set himself at one of the stools at the kitchen bar. “You took the only quick way here. Teleporting around as much as I had to do was taxing. I needed to recover some of my strength after. And without their king present, the goblins got into a great deal of mischief. The cretins adore chaos, and without a hand to guide that affinity, they can get rather deep in the shit.”

The expletive startled her and she turned, seeing Jareth looking at her with a serious expression.

“I did take Crom Cruach’s body and sank it into the bog. So trust that he won’t cause you trouble again.”

“You might have told me that it would take you some time before I left?” She asked, her emotions turbulent. She’d missed him. She was scared he wouldn’t come. Especially with every day that went by after she’d left.

“I did promise that I would come here and speak with you. I’m not one to just ignore something like that. Did you not trust me to keep my word?” He glanced away, his jaw tight. She could see the rigid tension in his shoulders, the lines that seemed to grow deeper around his eyes.

“If I didn’t trust you, I wouldn’t have -”

She bit that back, looking towards the tea as the kettle screamed. She pulled it off the heat, setting some black tea bags in the pot, pouring the steaming water in with them.

“Wouldn’t have what?”

She turned away, starting to get teacups ready. She didn’t like the vulnerability that swirled inside of her. She didn’t want to put human emotions on this, not when he’d established earlier that he didn’t have time for those. “I wouldn’t have had sex with you.”

The words were snappish. Distilling it down to simple sex hurt her. There’d been too much heart in it on her end for that, too much relief and joy. Too much love on her part. She set the cups onto saucers, perhaps harder than intended. Then, she turned and dug through her pantry for some cookies.

He’d been silent, she realized, as she turned back. Her eyes met his and she saw cold regard in them. 

“Sex, was it?” The icy tone raked claws over her heart. He stood, pacing towards her, his eyes dark with his temper. “Yes, perhaps that’s as good a place as any to start this chat." He slammed his hands down on the counter on either side of her, trapping her in the corner by the pantry.

“Tell me, precious. How many others did you have that sort of ‘sex’ with? Since that’s apparently all there was to it.”

She felt her heart jump into her throat at his nearness, and she turned towards him, trying to glare at him. “That is none of your business, Jareth.”

His face leaned close to hers, and he snarled at her. As usual, that snarl did wonderful things to her libido and she wanted to strangle it. Her knees went weak at the sound. She focused on the corner of the pantry, refusing to look at him.

“Isn’t it?” He leaned closer and she felt his hair brush her cheek and his breath on her ear. “That was a great deal more than sex, and you know it.”

She swallowed hard. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable by putting human feelings on it, Jareth. You were quick to point out that you aren’t human. Couldn’t feel human guilt, so why should I lie to myself that you can feel -”

His hand caught her chin, lifting her face, and she saw temper in his eyes. She swallowed hard, but before she could say more, his lips sealed over hers, hard. It was almost like he was punishing her for the words she’d said.

Her grip on the cookies failed, and she lifted her hands, grabbing the collar of his shirt, and holding him there, gasping against his lips. He still tasted of dreams and wishes and magic, and oh shit, she was too far gone to even think when he kissed her.

His tongue pressed between her lips, his hands moving from the counter to her waist, lifting her so the edge of her ass rested on it. He pressed between her thighs and she could feel him, his cock pressed against her hard and ready. She squirmed, trying to get closer still, trying to pull him closer.

Their kiss broke and she stared up at him before he tucked his forehead against her neck, his hand in the hair at her neck.

“Dammit, woman.”

She took that moment to catch her breath, her own face finding his shoulder. She wrapped her arms around his neck, holding on as tight as she could.

They needed to talk, she knew that, but…

The smell of him mixed with that of his magic swept up her nose and she bit her lip, shifting to get closer to him. He gave a quiet groan and responded, his hips rocking against hers, giving her the pressure of his cock against her. She shuddered, pressing her face against his neck and just breathing that smell as deep as she could, lifting a leg up around his hips to hold him close.

“I missed you,” she admitted, curling her hands into the back of his shirt, shaking and close to tears.

He lifted his face and she met his eyes, seeing that damn fragile hope back in his eyes and she caught his face, thumbs stroking over his angular cheeks. That hope was why she was tripping over herself and she knew it. She pulled him close, kissing him again, just a soft caress of her lips against his before she pulled back.

His eyes burned into hers and his hands lifted, holding her face still, not letting her come in for another kiss.

“Why?” he asked.

She took a steadying breath, combing her fingers through his wild, starlight hair, and then pressed her forehead against his, taking a steadying breath. “You know why.”

He searched her eyes for a long moment, and a rough laugh escaped him. “Avoiding the question, again?”

She looked at him, knowing her own fears and vulnerability was showing in her eyes. She gave a half-shrug and he sighed, tucking his face against her neck, again. She wasn’t certain how long he stood there, just holding her before he pulled back and helped her off the kitchen counter. His fingers brushed against her cheek for just a moment as he held her gaze.

“We really do need to talk, precious. We can argue after that.”

She looked him in the eyes, knowing before she spoke her mouth was going to get her into trouble.

“Is that what your tongue was doing in my mouth?” She quipped, arching a brow at him.

Surprise in his eyes for a moment. Then he smirked, and she caught a flash of his pointed teeth. Still, he stepped back away from her. He turned away, pouring the tea into the cups she’d set up, and she swallowed hard, finding the cookies that had ended up on the floor. She picked up the package, setting a few on each plate, setting the tube in the middle.

They both seemed hesitant to break the silence as they set up the tea, and Jareth picked it up, gesturing towards the ladder to the reading nook she’d been using as a bedroom since her arrival. 

“After you,” he offered.

She took a steadying breath, climbing up, and then she took the tray from him, lifting it up and sitting it on the ground in the middle of the plush rug. Once she was settled, he joined her, looking as poised lounging on the floor as he had sitting at the bar downstairs. She dressed her own tea, and grabbed a cookie, trying to think of what to say.

“I am glad you made it here, safe.”

She nodded, biting a cookie, using it to bide her time and keep from saying something stupid. When she found something, she used the tea to wash it down, and lifted her gaze back to him. He was watching her in silence, as if he knew she was procrastinating. “I’m glad you made it safe, too.”

He toyed with his own cup, lowering his gaze. “When Crom first showed himself, you mentioned that you’d developed a tolerance to spellbinding. I’m not certain that’s quite what happened. You’d broken spellbinding on your own three times by that point. The first being when I sent you to run before the pooka attack.”

She blinked. She hadn’t realized that. She thought it had just worn off. She looked at him, biting her lower lip. “What does that mean?”

“I think the underground was trying to remake you in it’s image. Close contact, for so long with magical items, in a realm of magic.” He shook his head, toying with a cookie. “I think, precious, that you were there long enough to develop magic of your own.”

She shook her head. “The only reason I could break the one you put on me was because of the wording you used, I think. And it...hurt. Not breaking it. Leaving you there, knowing you were staying behind with my face. Knowing they were going to hurt you because you were too drained to defend yourself.”

She lifted her eyes and saw him looking at her with a soft look in his own. She looked away again, lifted her tea and had some to give herself a moment. “I kept wondering why I didn’t just listen and go home, just pretend that nothing had ever happened. But I think if I’d done that, I would have never seen you again. I’d have never -”

“Snogged me senseless?” His voice held a lazy amused edge as he spoke.

She lifted her eyes, looking at him, feeling a blush suffuse her cheeks. She swallowed hard, trying to get past her emotions. She held his gaze, wetting her lips. “Among other things.”

Surprise and pleasure in his eyes. His pupils dilated, those blue rings narrowed. His lips twisted into a faint smirk which grew wider as her eyes lingered on them. Still, he didn’t speak, so she continued.

“I didn’t want that. I didn’t want you to die to protect me, either. It was all emotional pain, but it still hurt, as much as when you’d stabbed me.”

He reached across the tray, towards her, his fingers not quite touching where the knife had gone through her. “If it’s any comfort, I didn’t enjoy doing that.”

She closed her eyes, trying to ignore the warmth of his hand, trying to focus. “Why do you think the underground was trying to change me?”

He didn’t seem to like that she’d changed the topic. Still, he leaned back, picking up a cookie and breaking it in half. “Again, you were handling magical items regularly, wearing one, the entire time we were there. In addition to being in a world where magic is far stronger, and where you were in close contact with me. You knew, before, didn’t you? That the gancanagh wasn’t me, even if it had already ensnared you enough that you couldn’t fight back. Add those into being the Labyrinth’s champion and you shrugging off a powerful creature’s spellbinding on your own, it’s not an unreasonable guess. I think, at this point, you’re something called fae-touched. Half a step away from being faerie yourself. The only alternative reason I can think of that you could break that spellbinding is…”

His voice trailed off, and he didn’t continue, lifting the cookie and biting it.

Procrastinating, she realized.

“What’s the other reason?”

When his eyes met hers, she saw he’d sanitized his feelings again. His eyes were blank, holding nothing. “The result of us having sex.”

The wording punched her in the chest, especially after he’d kissed her as he had downstairs. She swallowed hard, looking away. She lifted her tea and took a drink, to avoid his eyes a bit longer. She didn’t want to see that look in his eyes, or the pain he’d caused by how he’d phrased it. Especially since she was the first one to use the phrasing.

As she set the tea down, Jareth’s hand settled over her own, holding it there.

“It doesn’t feel good, does it?”

She lifted her eyes, glaring at him. That was when she realized he was on his hands and knees in front of her, leaning over the tray towards her.

“So you used that wording because you knew it would hurt me?”

He snarled, and she bit her lower lip. One hand shifted the tray out of his way and he shifted closer still. She leaned back, half-falling back onto her elbow. “Cruelty begets cruelty, precious. You were the first to refer to what happened between us in such a base and degrading way.”

He was leaning over her, invading her space, and it wasn’t helping her think. But he was right, she’d used that wording first.

“And how would you have referred to it, Jareth?” She wasn’t sure she liked that she sounded breathless when she spoke.

His eyes had a feral light bright in them. She wasn’t sure how much was desire and how much was temper. “A mutual carnal display of passion and desire...and love?”

Her throat closed, choking her answer. It was lucky, she supposed, that he didn’t seem to expect an answer, because his lips crashed down on hers and she gave a quiet whimper. She stared up at him, seeing that fragile hope in his eyes before her own fell closed and she lifted her arms around him, pressing closer towards him. His weight came to rest against her and she gasped against his lips in wanting, her hands finding where his suit vest buttoned, her haste impeding her effectiveness.

A thought occurred to her and she changed her grip on him, using it to roll him beneath her, pinning him down by his shoulders and looking down into his eyes. He looked up at her, his gaze dark with wanting. She hesitated before she spoke. “Making love, then?”

That fire in his eyes flared bright at the phrasing.

“Better,” he growled, and he pulled her down, kissing her again. She scrambled over the buttons, again, and one of his nimble hands slipped between them, opening the button and fly of her jeans. He shifted, sitting upright and she felt his muscles flex as he did so.

Not fair, her mind told her, because she almost went right out of her head with need.

She didn’t care, right then. She took that moment to push the vest of his shirt off of him, and attacked the buttons of his shirt. She was sitting, straddling his lap, wanting very much to get him much more naked. Once his shirt was open, she pushed it over his shoulders, letting him pull away enough to toss it away behind him. Her eyes wandered over his smooth skin and a shaking breath escaped her. She watched as he tore his gloves off and he threw them somewhere into the cabin.

Seeing the bare hand, she took it and lifted it to her face, closing her eyes, just enjoying the feel of it against her skin.

His free hand slipped up the back of her shirt, working the edge up and then he reclaimed his other hand, pulling her shirt over her head and tossing it into the darkening cottage as well. His eyes wandered over her, his fingers trailing over her skin with a soft touch.

When his eyes met hers, he searched her for a long moment, his own dark with desire. That look made her feel like he’d dumped a bucket of hormones over her head and she slipped her hands behind his neck, pulling him close and kissing him deep and desperate.

The first time with him had been a slow exploration, and as much as she wanted to take her time, she didn’t think either of them had the patience for it. Like the first time, there was temper and relief and need riding every kiss and every touch. They squirmed out of what little clothing was left, and when he filled her, she let herself cry out in pleasure and joy, arching against him. He held her in his lap as he knelt on the ground, his arms all that kept her upright and she kissed him over and over, long and drugging kisses, pulling back long enough to look at him.

That hope looked less fragile, now, burning in his eyes. Her own was strangling her, and she felt his angle shift and she cried out, letting his hands guide her over him. When his hands slipped between them to tease her clit, and she sputtered, bucking against him as he hurled her over the edge, and he swore soundly against her shoulder.

She felt him throbbing, and gave a weak, desperate laugh, pulling him closer with her legs at his hips, trying to keep him buried there inside of her.

They stayed like that, trembling for a long time before he shifted, sitting back, bringing her with him, his hands sliding over her back and sides, his lips brushing against the top of her head. She was almost asleep under the tender ministrations, when he shifted, pulling from her.

She gave a soft groan of disappointment, and heard the ripe bastard chuckle against her ear. Then he straightened her, looking into her eyes for a long moment. Then, he set his hand between them, palm up, waiting. “Take my hand?”

She blinked, still out of it. She looked down at his hand, then back into his eyes, again. “Why?

An impatient edge hardened his expression, but there was also exasperation and that brilliant hope tangled up with other things she couldn’t quite name. “Because, you precious little fool, I’m trying to ask you to marry me, so take my damned hand.”

She blinked, his words driving the remaining tiredness from her. She stared at him for a long moment, trying to see if he was playing a trick. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been looking at him, but she saw the hope in his eyes seem to dim and she started, putting her hand in his.

He didn’t relax right away, then his eyes lowered and he stared at her hand sitting in his and his eyes jerked up to hers again. She saw his throat work as if he was trying to get around whatever words were going through his head and she gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

“Yes,” she said, her voice quiet and thick with emotions.

He stared up at her, that hope almost blinding. “Yes?”

She smiled a bit, biting her lower lip. “Yes.”

His eyes were confused, but his lips were twisting into that smile that she loved so much. “Why?”

She laughed, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him close, pressing her forehead against his. She looked into his beautiful blue eyes, her fingers caressing his cheek. “You stubborn asshole. You know why.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end.


End file.
